


Not quite Paradise

by Okkkay



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okkkay/pseuds/Okkkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Autobots defeated the Decepticons, Optimus turns out to be the only one who can save an innocent sparklet's life. IDW-verse AU. Rated M for some intimacy and mpreg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter zero

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13641216#t13641216. I took a few liberties with the plot (you will notice). All those warnings (dubcon, mpreg) apply. Also, character death.

As it stood, Optimus Prime was done for. Megatron and Soundwave had seen his fellow Autobots haul him back to their miserable base in pieces after their last battle. And that was over a week ago. Subsequently, break-ins had increased in Shockwave’s workshops, and every time, the thieves seemed to know all too well what they were coming for. Only a set of hydraulics. Only a bag of nanite infusion. An experimental energon-abridger. Most recently, a new cosmitron. Frenzy and Ravage had suggested that they try and trap the uninvited visitors, but Megatron spat a denial in a peal of malicious laughter. He wanted to know what else Optimus Prime still needed and those backward fleshy allies could not provide for him. Also, he wanted his greatest nemesis to be repaired, so that he could be defeated again. And again, and again. Every time he was willing to stand up for the miserable rights and lives of pitiful weak beings.   
Laserbeak perched close to the laboratory’s ceiling. Even if Megatron didn’t allow them to interfere, she could still sit and identify the robbers, could she not? And then, she would track them to their base, and perhaps also slip inside and gather new information. Soundwave would not mind her absence for an evening, especially not now. A spy she was, but she shyly averted her processor from her carrier and her leader. She didn’t want to know what they were doing right now. They were... ugh.... celebrating. That. Celebrating in private.   
Frenzy and Buzzsaw weren’t nearly as polite about their superiors’ intimacy. Both were eagerly picking up whatever came through their quantum-bond, and loudly commented on their guesses. This heat-sensation must have been Megatron touching their carrier’s sensitive telepathy-sensors. That was the activation of the interfacing protocols. Oh yeeeeeees, the screech of rubbed thigh plating. Was that an actual moan they heard? From Megatron? And NOW, the intense heat. Their chest panels must be open by now. Spark union will happen in twenty-five.... twenty-four.... twenty-three.... They could tell when Soundwave’s spark casing opened. Twenty-one. Twenty.   
Rumble had also heard the noises, felt the heat, but he declined to comment on it. These two were the worthiest mechs for each other. He would have never allowed anyone else even close to Soundwave, but he couldn’t object against Megatron. He was their leader, their top-most commander, and Soundwave accepted his attention with gratitude. So Rumble simply cast a disdainful look at his co-cassettes, and turned away.   
Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve astroseconds.  
“Almost there!” Buzzsaw rejoiced.   
Ten. Nine. Ravage stalked away from the duo who were counting down loudly. Even when his two favorite beings in the Universe were interfacing, someone had to stay alert and watch. Guard duty.   
Three. Two. One.  
MEGATRON.   
Their leader’s eruption into their quantum-bond, the presence that ruled and destroyed worlds, swept them nearly off their feet. Even Laserbeak, three hundred hics away from the united sparks, was seeing stars as the powerful energy, the wonderful presence blasted through the bond between her and Soundwave.  
Then, unexpectedly like lightning from the cloudless morning sky, there was a sense of panic. Abruption.   
And Ratbat was no longer part of their cohort.  
Where was he, what happened to him? What did he do, did he not die? What had he been doing while the rest were, willingly or not, paying attention to Megatron and Soundwave sharing sparks?  
Laserbeak abandoned her hiding place and hurried back to the Decepticon base. The biped twins were on their feet, anxiously looking at each other, and Buzzsaw whispered “Do you remember their quarrel two joors ago?” Ravage jumped up and stormed away in the direction they had last seen the little batformer.  
The two united sparks, despite the lurch of disruption and loss they had both felt, remained together for almost a minute. It wasn’t a decision, more like an instinct or a barely understood part of the Cybertronian biology. Perhaps it was Soundwave’s spark-pain that tied them together, perhaps it was the loss itself, or maybe the undefinable emotions that Megatron had felt. The sparks stayed together, and when they finally separated, there was a tiny fragment in Soundwave’s brightly burning red spark that had not been there before.


	2. Chapter one

Optimus Prime woke between neatly clean but somewhat ruptured walls. Ugh, Deltaran had been bombed several times since the war began. He stared up at the ceiling, where an exceptionally long fracture formed a question mark with his third-in-command’s worried head as the dot under it.  
“Jazz. I suppose I should be asking ‘Is something wrong?’ but I fear that would be pointless. What happened?”  
He tried to bring the memory files up, the records of the last two orns, but his motion software and general cognitives were programmed to boot up first. His audiosensors recorded what Jazz was saying, but it took several seconds until he could start and decode them.  
He was out for one week, courtesy of Megatron and Devastator, then half-healed he had to rally back to the battlefield because they were given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to win the war. Some insider information: passwords to the security systems, squad movements and strategy plans, the stop-codes of all active phase-sixers, and all of these were surprisingly accurate. The Autobots could easily get to the Decepticon headquarters without even setting up an alarm, and best of all, they caught Megatron and Soundwave off guard. Optimus remembered Ironhide aiming a laserblaster at the enemy leader, and Ravage jumping in between, taking the deadly shot. Then Starscream arrived, opening a new entrance through the roof. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took him on. Then Soundwave showed up, and.... the next thing Optimus Prime remembered was the darkness and the bright blue of the Matrix that followed. He must have lost consciousness so fast he didn’t even register the pain.  
And now he was here, under the fragmented roof of the Deltaran Medical Facility, staring up at his trusted third-in-command. Once again he opted not to read his body’s complete damage record. He ran a quick test whether his most essential functions were back, then sat up, looking into Jazz’s blue visor, piecing his words together.  
“Start with the good news please.”  
“Ugh? OK, bossbot. We have most of the dangery ‘Cons scooped up. This includes Megatron, both ‘Waves, Menasor, Abominus, Predaking, and most of Devastator. We’ve yetta find Trypticon.”  
“Starscream?”  
“Wreckers.”  
Poor Skyfire, the Prime thought.  
“Bruticus?”  
“That the problem, bossbot. Executed.”  
“WHAT?!” The Prime was on his feet in a nanosec. “How do you mean, executed? By whom?”  
“The restored Senate voted, unanimously, that they were already convicted before they were rebuilt by Starscream. Then, not so unanimously, they were agreed to be killed.”  
Behind my back, the Prime murmured to himself. Jazz continued.  
“Bumblebee is trying to hold them until I get you. In two and a half joors, they will be voting on the big beats. The Combaticons were unlucky ‘cause their sentence was signed long b’fore we left Cybertron.”  
During the next joors, Optimus Prime held two teleconferences, read through Rook’s report on the events he missed, and had a heated quarrel with Ratchet who insisted that the Autobot leader was not repaired nearly enough to online. All this while burning rubber to the Senate hall in Iacon. Ratchet had pleaded with him to at least wait for Skyfire to pick him up, so that he wouldn’t have to stress his not yet ready frame.  
“I am sorry, Ratchet, but I don’t have time for that. I will deal with my own body when I can” he replied.  
“Why do I get the feeling you and Magnus have something in common?” Ratchet harrumphed. He would have certainly thrown a spanner at his patient, had he been still in arm’s reach.  
\-------  
The old red truck ran a stellar time from the Deltaran to the Senate buildings, and he had yet to face the worst. Few Decepticons had defected in exchange for their old positions in the new hierarchy structure, and they found those Autobots who cared more about the Cybertronian law than their leader’s ideals. The new Senate resembled the old one: powerful and power-hungry mechs were posing as law enforcers and embodiments of justice. With the Prime being out cold for long, they have already strengthened their positions enough to oppose the freshly reawaken Optimus Prime.  
Ultra Magnus and Prowl were there. Cliffjumper. Mirage. Each name hurt like a whiplash directly in the spark. These mechs have all voted to sentence the remaining Decepticons to life-long imprisonment. For the most dangerous of these, “life-long” wasn’t going to be a long period of time.  
“We have to do it, Prime, we have to finish the war. If we don’t end those mechs, they will be out in no time, and the whole victory would be over. We won’t have another chance like this” Prowl reasoned.  
“This choice is what the Decepticons would have done in our place” Optimus pointed out.  
“That exactly. Why do you think we should act differently?” Cliffjumper asked.  
“Because the last time I checked, I was an Autobot, and so were you!” Bumblebee replied.  
Optimus looked once more into Prowl’s optics, and finally he admitted defeat. At the end of the nine million years war, those ideals he stood up for had finally fallen to dust.  
\-----  
There was no question about Megatron’s fate. The proud grey gunformer watched with well-faked gloating as Optimus Prime’s faceplates flinched at his death sentence. He wanted to rule whatever was in the known galaxy, and beyond. All he had achieved was ruining the faith of his opponent. Optimus had rarely declared a sentient creature to be beyond redemption, now Megatron’s only and last satisfaction was seeing him broken and utterly lost. So why wouldn’t he torture his nemesis with his last act of bravado?  
“Final request?” he echoed. “Noble Autobots, my final request is..... to die of my enemy’s hands!”  
His gaze fell on the Prime. Optimus wished he could just hide under the table in shame.  
Prowl looked at his commander, and announced the end of the meeting. They would continue the trials the day after.  
\-----  
It was almost midnight when Optimus Prime finally gathered the courage and rolled down the death row. There was only Ironhide with him – the old red guardian understood what his leader was going through, and kept reminding him of the benefits. The war would be over. No more innocent lives would be taken, if they finally end the Decepticon leader’s functioning.  
“And isn’t it odd and just that the Decepticons’ downfall was a single act of treason? Matching.”  
The Prime looked at the dark corridor, the identical-looking, polistrengthened cyberium cell doors, the many layers of energon bars.  
“It is our downfall, Ironhide. Now, we’re here. Open the cell and... leave us alone. This is private business between the two of us.” He transformed and entered the cell.  
It was much brighter than the outside corridor, as all four walls were criss-crossed with energy barrier lines. There was a barren berth against the other side, and some energon spread out. Megatron was properly chained, and he looked like his prison guards took their last chance to beat him up before the Prime came to finish him for once and for all.  
Optimus looked the mech in the optics. Was this disgusting piece of metal worth the trouble he willingly put himself through for him? Last request, eh? His last request was to die with the knowledge that he killed Optimus Prime, if not the mech, then at least the ideal. Which would be worse: to be physically killed by Megatron, or to let him take the last shard of Prime’s goodness? The truckformer unleashed his opponent, determined not to think about what was about to come.  
“Transform” he said in a kind, quiet, resonant tone. The walls echoed his single word.  
“Hah! You won’t bear to look me in the optics, great Prime?” There was something odd in Megatron’s voice. Was it uncertainty? A shiver behind the thin mask of arrogance?  
Optimus lifted up his freshly repaired, empty hands. If he had also readied something in his subspace with this movement, no-one could tell.  
“I have not even been released from hospital. You can’t expect me to take you down in robot mode.”  
What an excuse, the Decepticon growled. Nevertheless, he obeyed. What he wanted, to break the Prime, had happened. If he would die now, so be it. He transformed.  
The immobilizer, the more advanced and lot more shrunk version of the weapon that once Megatron used to trap Autobots in their alts, gave a silent hiss as Optimus fired it.  
“Weakling” Megatron whispered. Optimus didn’t argue, although he strongly disagreed.


	3. Chapter two

Soundwave, deprived from his strong blue shields and his weapons, and most importantly: of his cassettes, looked up from his cuffs. He felt Blaster’s optics on himself. Could the old Autobot busybody not find any other place to be? Did he have to be present, and provide him some fake sympathy? Of course not. He had to be here when his personal nemesis was sentenced to death. He had to assure him that he would take care of his cassettes after he was gone.   
Cassettes. Soundwave still didn’t know what had happened to Ratbat. Ravage, at least, died a hero’s death when he jumped between Ironhide’s laserblaster and the wounded Megatron. The two birdformers got away, or so he hoped. He didn’t know where they were, but of course they couldn’t organize a rescue mission without Frenzy and Rumble. And the twins had also been captured. If all goes well.... no. He didn’t want to imagine his joyful duo enslaved to the Autobots they fought against.   
“Any last request?”   
“Negative. Soundwave: Decepticon third in command. Sentence: obvious.” Then, as if he just remembered to ask: “Query: method of destruction?”  
“Electrically induced spark overload” Mirage replied. In other words, the Autobots would see him unwillingly overload for them, for their sick desire of revenge, until his spark would burn out with electrocution. Soundwave pried into his executioners’ minds. They chose this method because he was still too strong to be destroyed any other way, while the built-in opening on his chest gave easy access to his spark. Speaking of which....  
Soundwave stood up.  
“Last request: execution delayed. Reason: sparklet would suffer.”  
He heard his audience echo ‘sparklet’. He continued.  
“Sparklet: only two orns old. Expected survival without sire: not more than three more orns.” His cold, multi-tone voice seemed to freeze the air in the large hall. Someone was calling for a doctor to prove his words.  
“Who is the sire?” Bumblebee asked. Why? Despite his telepathy, Soundwave couldn’t guess why the yellow Autobot politician asked. Were the sire alive, would they let him carry to term?   
“Megatron.”   
The telepath had already read the thoughts and memories of those who had been to the prison area this morning. Many had seen the exploded junk of a handheld gray gun, and even more had witnessed Optimus Prime leaving the facility in shame and disgrace. He had no doubt of what had transpired in the lower prison level’s burnt-out cell.  
“Sire: dead. Sparklet: no chance of survival. Request: waiting until abortion.”  
His deep and emotionless words left the Autobots hesitant and silent. Would there truly be a sparklet next to Soundwave’s own spark in his casing? If so: is there really no way it could be saved? Ridding the world of a menacing Decepticon blackmail specialist was one, obviously beneficial thing. But with Cybertron’s population so depleted, each and every spark mattered. Was there truly no way of saving it?  
\----  
Optimus gagged at the reports from the Great Hall of Iacon. Behind closed doors, his best mechs were arguing about what to do with the other prisoners. The Prime didn’t like the idea a bit, but at least, now one of the loudly quarreling mechs was armed with a mighty wrench he had far too often witnessed in use. And he wasn’t the only Autobot uncomfortable about whatever was going on in that conference room.  
How ironic. During all those millions of years, they had envisioned (and fought for) a world free of Decepticon influence. Now they could have it – and war seemed preferable, compared to this peacetime. Perhaps what a Cybertronian could manage as peace, was truly nothing more than peace through tyranny.... His hand, unknowingly, reached for his hand-held weapon under the table. But instead of the laser riffle’s familiar black handle, his fingers tightened up on scratched and cold and hostile gray metal.  
“You think you should have stopped them too, oh great Optimus Prime?” some familiar, rasping deep voice asked. “You were their leader when they needed you. Will they not listen to your words of wisdom now?”  
Wisdom? As if.  
“Shut up.” He quickly put the weapon back into his subspace.  
\------------  
Ratchet arrived at the death row soon after the meeting. Soundwave had already been led back to his cell. It was barren, monotone and unwelcoming, but it gave the third-in-command a false sense of security. As long as he was in here, he would be left alone. He could think. He could live, if only for a short period of time. His sparklet would go out peacefully, and he could grieve for him like he had grieved the sparklet’s sire. And Ravage.  
He sat down on the berth, his back rested against the polistrengthened cyberium. The flickers of the energon bars seemed to follow a rhythm, and he watched, trying to figure its logic.   
After what felt like just a breem, Ratchet entered his cell. He seemed to be holding some sort of a weapon.  
“Open up” he said.   
Soundwave would have told him what to open, but he noticed the two bulky guards behind the Autobot medic, and decided that humiliation at the CMO’s hands would be still better than being pinned down by the prison guards and having his chest panel opened manually.   
“I need to check if the sparklet is doing all right” Ratchet added.   
Soundwave lay down, obviously less than enthusiastic about the oncoming examination. Were these two going to watch his bare spark while Ratchet is doing energy analysis?   
Luckily, not.  
“Kick, Rotor, thank you. Now please let me work. It would be less stress on the spark and the sparklet if you were present elsewhere.”  
“Fine, but we will have to chain him if you want us to leave” Kick-Off replied. Ratchet looked at the other guard (Could it be Rotorstorm? What happened to his eponymous rotors?) and finally nodded.   
They were left alone with the prison doors open. Not that Soundwave could have escaped, with his two hands chained to the opposite walls of the tiny room. Ratchet bent over him, aiming the weapon-like tool at his spark. Red light sensor, Soundwave read from the doctor’s mind. Sensor then, not weapon. He still didn’t know what it was for.   
It.... tickled. Not like the ensuring presence of his cassettes would have, but Soundwave suffered it without a word. He didn’t like the grumpy look on the medic’s face. Well, maybe he would have liked that look somewhere on a battle ground, but definitely not when Ratchet was scanning the contents of his emptied chest compartment.   
“What are your findings, Chief Medical Officer?” Soundwave asked. It could only be useful to address the red and white mech by his full title.  
“I need to talk to Optimus.” With that, the docbot gently closed the cassette holder’s door, then subspaced his sensor. “We all are in a pitful of scrap here.” Especially Prime and Wheeljack are, if this turns out, Ratchet thought. Soundwave couldn’t get the context of the stray sentiment. “I will be back as soon as I can. Be strong, mommy.”  
Mommy?

3,


	4. Chapter three

The Prime looked up from the examination table, and Ratchet’s wide smile told him that the medic’s theory was correct.  
“It should work out just fine, Ops. And if anyone is asking, you can tell them the short version.”  
Which would be, “The Matrix of Leadership contains the energy of all great Leaders who had passed away, that is why it can substitute the energy of Megatron, who died at my hands.”   
“Soundwave won’t....”  
“Just be careful that the Matrix is there between the two of you all the time” Wheeljack interrupted. “For your sake, and for Elita’s.”  
“Mark his words” Ratchet nodded. “Good luck, Prime. I may not be here when you return. Wish me some luck too.”  
Optimus stared. He thought at least his medic would be by his side during this abomination, this madness. Where was he going?  
“What are you going to do, Ratch?”  
Wheeljack replied.  
“He will try the impossible.”  
Because energizing a sparklet with substitute energy was not impossible, eh? The Prime sighed. He will do his best, and he will keep hoping that his Aubobots stay on the right path.   
\-----  
Elita-One transformed from the swift car mode to the elegant and volatile robot mode. The sensors in her head told her that the area was clear. Good. This was their hiding place when the male mechs were mostly stranded on Earth and the purple menace Shockwave ruled the darkened planet of Cybertron. She jumped down into the hole, and watched as the disguising pile of junk covered the entrance again.   
This was familiar place for her. Their home for four million years. Only the few surviving femmebots knew about this place, and Shockwave had some idea about the first few metrics of the labyrinth. The pink femme touched her left hand to one sensor in the wall, while she scored a direct hit on the empty energon cube in the opposite corner. The cube disappeared, a heavy blast-door opened next to it.   
Elita hesitated. She was well aware of what (who) was there in the Shockwave-proof storage corridor. She could feel the malice and disappointment seeping through the now uninhabited estate. She braced herself. This was just a favor she was doing. Nothing too dangerous, at least, not on the short term.   
She stepped into the dark corridor. Lights only turned on several astroseconds after the door closed behind her.  
She readied a bullet filled with dense energon. It looked more like a pill, rather than a custom-made energon cube.   
“Dinner time” she announced. “Optimus said he would drop by later.”  
\-----  
Soundwave was standing next to the wall, his optics on the low-grade cube that was presumably standard prison fuel. His tanks were empty, but his guards forgot to unchain him after Ratchet had left, so he could not reach the weakly shining energon that was tossed through the energon bars.   
Soundwave would have accepted to be slowly starved to stasis before his execution, but as long as Megatron’s sparklet was present in his chest, he wished to provide it the best circumstances in its short life.   
The door opened, and no less than the Prime stepped in. Soundwave’s optics lit up (and how menacing those unfocused optics were, without the visor the third-in-command was usually seen with!) and the two hulking mechs looked at each other, more like fellow sufferers, rather than enemies.   
“May I sit down?” Optimus gestured at the berth. “We have a lot to talk about.” He unsubspaced a large cube of midgrade and placed it on Soundwave’s side of the furniture. If he had seen the low-grade fuel at the entrance, he seemed to have ignored it.  
Soundwave tried to read the Autobot leader’s head, but he only found a mess of thoughts. However, mostly Megatron, Ratchet and the sparklet were on the Prime’s mind. Soundwave accepted the cube.  
“The phase-sixers were taken into storage” Optimus began, as if in an attempt to chat about some neutral topic first. “The council agreed that they would be useful if any outer enemy would threaten our world.”  
“Blackshadow and Sixshot: likely” Soundwave replied. “If you can convince them. Overlord: not. By spark, he is an outlander himself.”  
Spark. Ugh, there they were, at the much less comfortable topic. Soundwave sat down, and consumed his fuel. At the moment, Optimus felt more discomfited than the prisoner who had about two and a half orns to live.  
“With your and Megatron’s size taken into consideration, the medics say the sparklet needs to get about five to six boosts of spark energy. At an ideal rate, it would be one in every four orns. Is that so?”  
Soundwave shook his head.  
“Statement: inaccurate. Sparklet needs boost of sire’s spark energy. Sire: dead.” As far as I know, Soundwave added. But even if Megatron was alive somewhere, he could not come and merge sparks with the communication officer. Without that, the sparklet was as good as dead. Stillborn.  
“Ratchet says I could, with the energies stored in the Matrix, help you keep the sparklet. I’m not saying this would be an ideal setup, far from it, but he would live. He would be a free mech, and Elita and I would take a good care of him.”  
Soundwave looked up at him, not daring to hope.  
“Query: execution adjourned?”  
“No Autobot would harm you as long as you’re carrying. You have my word.”  
Soundwave looked at him, and registered the Cybertronian equivalent of a shiver running through Optimus Prime’s frame.  
“What is the down side?”  
“Since I am not... the Matrix is not the real sire, I would need to come every second orn, and.... merge you with the Matrix.”  
Now the same shiver was running through Soundwave.  
“Matrix: embedded in your spark.” He couldn’t believe what Optimus seemed to want. “Your suggestion: spark merge every second orn?”  
“I don’t suggest, Soundwave. I ask you. I want your sparklet to survive.”  
Soundwave lifted his hands, as if to bury his face in them, but the chains were just too short for that. So he was simply staring at his cuffed wrists for a few long seconds, then shoved over so that his chained left hand’s index finger could reach the opening button of the cassette holder. From then, it was easy to completely fold down the translucent door. Faint, cinder-like red glow was visible in the cold light of the energy barriers.  
The Matrix was glowing with intense blue, and when Optimus’s chest panels opened, its life-light filled the prison cell.   
\----  
Ratchet knew that, in theory, there could be no emotion behind that glaring yellow optic. But he was seeing things: confusion, hatred, fear, alarm, and perhaps some sadness and defeat. The medic wondered when was the last time the cold-blooded Decepticon felt true emotions.   
He smiled, and the shadow of fear ran through the hardened faceplates of the guards.   
Later every one of them stated to have witnessed a horrible transfiguration of the formerly grumpy but helpful and trustworthy doctor. When he put Shockwave into stasis, he looked more like a possessed scientist rather than a sworn healer.  
Then the doors closed behind him, and did not open for many, many orns.  
\-----  
Optimus moved closer to the sitting Decepticon third-in-command, touching the edge of the cassette-box with a careful finger. His hands slowly wandered through Soundwave’s armor-less surface, caressing the neck, the abdominal buttons, the secondary fuel intake sockets, the hydraulics that were no longer hidden behind dark blue shields.  
He knew Soundwave didn’t want any of this. That Soundwave would have preferred him to be outside of his cell, right now. But what else could have the Autobot leader done? Run down the Decepticon like a dark-alley rapist? Of course not.   
The communication officer was sitting still, without as much as a flicker in his optics. He registered the Prime’s hands on his torso, but didn’t really appreciate the care. He read Optimus Prime’s mind, and he unspokenly approved of the intention. It was nice that Optimus didn’t want him to feel violated, but how could have an Autobot’s touch be ever compared to the rough love of a Decepticon leader?   
The Prime’s hands reached Soundwave’s back, the left thumb was tickling the unshielded cables of his neck while the right index pressed the button on his shoulder. Finally, with the two stimuli reaching his neuroprocessor at the same time, Soundwave’s spark roused from the depth of his cassette compartment, and revealed its full light in an astonishing red glow.   
Optimus turned, carefully, even closer to the Decepticon. He was careful not to let his own spark closer to Soundwave, and to keep Soundwave’s spark out of his red chest compartment. The Matrix never behaved exactly as the Prime wanted, but today it seemed to be contently glowing in a wonderful, all-knowing light, and as it partially separated from the late Orion Pax’s darker blue soul-orb, Optimus wondered if it will ever return to him as it was.   
Soundwave screamed in pain as the all-powerful, life-giving essence touched his deepest self. It was too intense, too strong, rough, and it was overly accusing. How many Cybertronians had he killed? How many other beings had he abolished? How much destruction had he caused, how many connections had he screwed up or abused? How many of his own people had he prevented from leaving Megatron’s army, and what did he bring on those renegades who slipped nevertheless? There was Starscream: the deceased air commander personally told him how many things would have been different without him. Soundwave would have recognized that irritating voice anywhere. Then, there was Overlord. Though not entirely dead, he was still present in the Matrix enough to tell Soundwave how thankless little beast he was.   
Optimus didn’t sense the disturbance in Soundwave’s spark (he was careful to turn a blind eye, really) but he intensely felt the anger and disappointment the Matrix was radiating. The precious artefact had its own preferences, and Soundwave clearly wasn’t its favorite. Just like it refused to open for Ultra Magnus when he would have needed it most.   
Why you chose me, Optimus whispered to the Matrix as it returned to dwell inside his truck-cabin chest.   
Once their sparks returned to their proper places, Optimus put a careful hand on Soundwave’s chained wrist. The mech was still passive, barely aware of his surroundings. His discomfort and unease were clear even though 1, he didn’t want to show, 2, Optimus didn’t want to see.   
“It will get a little better in time” the Autobot whispered. A white lie, Soundwave picked up from his thoughts.   
The Prime stayed with Soundwave in the cell for a while, and fed him one more cube of midgrade before leaving. Both were exhausted, both still needed repairs.... and Prime had a lot more uncomfortable duty for the other day.


	5. Chapter four

In just two orns time, Ratchet’s cell became the worst feared area of the whole prison. Sounds of laser scalpels and the smell of solvents filled the corridors around it. Muted moans could be heard (or was it just a whisper of the ventillation?) and the guards were secretly talking about a never-identified mech who once went too close to the door, and was never seen ever again.  
To intensify the terror, the security cameras of the cell went out soon after Ratchet entered the space. None of the otherwise courageous prison guards had liked Shockwave before, but they started to develop some unexplained sympathy for the mech in the suddenly-changed Autobot medic’s hands. Red Alert demanded that somebody switched on the cameras again, or at least placed new ones.  
“No” Optimus Prime said calmly. He came to the prison area to donate Matrix-held energy to Soundwave’s sparklet, and he didn’t feel like dealing with the shivering security staff of the lower levels.   
“Prime, we don’t know what’s going on in there. Ratchet has gone truly mad, and what if he is, dunno, building a dimension bridge out of Shockwave’s dead body?”  
The Prime looked up on the ceiling, then at the squad of prison guards. These Autobots have faced the entire Decepticon army several times, but now they were begging Optimus to do something about the Horrible Room and were overly reluctant to place new cameras inside the cell. Even if they would just send drones in there, that would mean they would have to open the doors first. They were not going to do that.  
“If Ratchet locked the door behind himself, he must have had some very good reason to do so” the Prime continued. “We have to be patient. He needs time and solitude for whatever he is doing.”  
“Do something for the Decepticon, if you are unwilling to see what has happened to our best medic!” someone demanded.   
“Unlike the appearances, I do greatly care about both of them” Optimus said silently. “Yes, for all who didn’t know, Shockwave was once a friend of mine. And Ratchet, Ratchet still is a friend, he brought several of us back from the edge of eternity. Now please, go back to your work. I have a sparklet to take care of.”  
\--------  
Soundwave’s hands were still chained, and the three cubes at the cell door indicated that the guards didn’t consider the carrying mech’s needs. Optimus wondered if they even checked on him in the meantime, or did they just leave him to Prime’s care. The wartime leader wondered if they would have noticed an intruder in the same cell, as some of Soundwave’s cassetticons were still on the loose, but he shrugged off the thought. There was no need to focus on his doubts in the presence of a telepath.   
Soundwave didn’t seem to be as menacing as he had last seen him, just two orns ago. He seemed to be at peace, with himself and with the world. He didn’t even try to pull away from the Prime’s red chassis, he only sat on the other side of the berth to give the Autobot some space. He accepted the wonderful midgrade with a quick, quiet thanks, and when he gave the empty cube back, his unfocused red optics looked at Optimus with trust and hope.   
The chest plates on the red semitruck’s cabin opened, and sudden horror crossed the unmasked Decepticon’s face in the brilliant blue glow. Then, he steadied himself and tried to focus on Megatron’s energy in the life-source, and on the sparklet who needed it. He suppressed everything else. He would try and keep his own spark away as much as possible, he would ignore the Prime, he would not even read the enemy leader’s thoughts.... keeping some mental distance might help.... and he would hope that Optimus wouldn’t start asking questions he didn’t feel like answering.   
Optimus Prime offered him a handshake, then gently pulled him closer until their helms quietly clinged. Soundwave’s spark rose from the depth of his chest/subspace, ready to be merged with the Autobot’s artefact.   
The connection was a lot stronger than last time, much less painful, much less accusing. Soundwave wasn’t sure if he was having delusions, or did he truly feel a familiar presence in the Matrix, guarding him from the too-much energy, the too-many taken lives. Did he not hear the purring, did he not sense the critical thoughts and sarcastic observations?   
He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want Optimus to notice, much less, to know. The presence he felt was his and Megatron’s guardian angel, a shadow that followed them through their darkest hours. Soundwave didn’t want to lose him yet again, he didn’t want this merge to end. Even after their sparks sank back to their chests and the panels closed again, he was still holding Optimus’s hand in his right.  
With his other hand, the Prime patted him on the shoulder, his strong strokes on the dark blue frame giving a false sense of comfort.   
“Let me go, Soundwave” Optimus whispered. But Soundwave didn’t move. Optimus didn’t, either.   
Several breems passed. Noone said a word.   
“I’m sorry, Sounders, I have to go” Optimus finally decided, and stood up from the berth. His waist and hips reminded him with a small screech that he spent too much time in an uncomfortably twisted position.   
“Prime....”  
What, now?  
Soundwave broke the optic contact, and shook his helm, “Nothing.”  
“I will try and get you a better place” Optimus promised, and removed the cuffs from the Decepticon’s hands before he left the cell.  
Soundwave threw his now free arms around himself, as if hugging his own chest. As though he never felt this much alone. But at least he had something to work with. He had information from the Matrix, from Prime, and his source was the mech he trusted most: Ravage. How the dead Cassetticon’s lifeforce found his way back to his carrier was a mystery, but his success was beyond question. Perhaps it had something to do with his origin? The black cybercat’s spark came directly from the Matrix, this might be one answer. And so far, he had always found his way back to his master. But where was he last time? The first time, when the Matrix came into direct contact with Soundwave’s carrying spark, and almost burnt it out? Well.... most likely, he was with the sparklet’s sire. The faithful Cassetticon was going to act as a courier for his superiors. He had already managed to get the most important message through.   
Well done, Ravage.  
\-------  
It was a lonely place. Dark and hopeless, being here would have been enough punishment for those mechs who had once been stored in these cellars before their surgery. But what happened to them after they were dragged out from here, that was certainly much worse. Many eons later, as the war swept through the surface of Cybertron, this underground maze had become a hiding place for those who had so little to lose. It was still dark and unwelcoming, not even the female Autobots used it if they could help it, not even after they noticed how widely Shockwave had avoided the area. Was there perhaps something that the all-knowing Decepticon knew better than to mess with, or was it the palpable threat in the atmosphere that not even the emotionless purple mech was immune to? Millions of years weren’t enough for the femmes to solve the puzzle (not that they bothered too much).   
This orn, the cellar was quiet again. Optimus and Elita have left joors ago, now only the sparkless cameras were keeping guard.   
It was very lonely indeed.   
\-------  
Soundwave was moved to another cell, one far larger and better furnished. He noticed at least a dozen hidden sensors, under the berth, in the hard metal of the chairs, and behind the energon dispenser. Some were the same type his Cassettes had used when they couldn’t be present at a location of interest. He wondered who and how convinced the little ones to give out their secrets. Was it torture or hacking? Or did they cooperate under the threat of something bad coming to their (former?) carrier? Soundwave was shocked to recognize how little he could do for Rumble and Frenzy in his current situation. He didn’t feel nearly as lost as he had before the Prime’s second visit, but being unable to act there and then still made him feel weak.   
Then.... footsteps. Thoughts, directed towards him. He sprang up from the table he was examining, but by the time he arrived at the cell door, it was already open. Two identical small mechanisms jumped into his arms, one red with black decor, the other intense blue with some light blue highlights.   
“Hiya, boss!”  
“Good ta see ya!”  
“Missed ya!”  
“Yepp! Alert says we can c’me more often if we behave”  
“An’ Blaster says we can come when Alert won’t let us in, and geez, he is a mech of his word!”  
“Says the one who didn’t believe he would feed us to Steeljaw if he finds the washrack flooded in propex...”  
“....again. Hey don’t look at me like that, it was your idea!”  
“I didn’t know something that’s used for fusing can be that slippery when it gets wet!”  
“Now you do!”  
Soundwave proudly smiled at the duo. He always had his reasons not to keep propex in the toilette, and now the kids were richer with an experience at the Autobots’ cost. He petted Rumble on the helm, then lifted Frenzy up on the table.   
He couldn’t help but notice the collars they were both wearing.  
“We furnished the room for ya” Rumble said as he climbed after his brother. “Designed especially for our cohort’s needs.”  
“Alert wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the vid screen, but we told him that if we plan to stay with you for the night, we would need it.”  
“And Blaster backed us up! He said he would be watching whatever is going on in this room anyway.”  
“And he promised to warn Alert if he notices something we shouldn’t be doing, so no watching Earthen porn channels, Frenzy.”  
“You say that as if it wasn’t Ratbat who....?”  
The cheerful talk was cut abruptly at the mention of Ratbat. The two little cassettes hugged Soundwave as strong as they could, not willing to let go of him. Soundwave’s arms surrounded them like a protective shield.  
“We just wanted to tell you, we are doing well. No need to worry about us, boss.”  
“Blaster is looking after us like a carrier should. Officially, we belong to Red Alert, because he needed our abilities and our experience in data managament and espionage, and sometimes he is a jerk, but Blaster won’t let him touch us if we do something wrong....”  
“But then in private Blaster keeps telling us that he won’t be able to defend us all the time, and that we should behave, and....”  
“.... and should forget we were once Decepticons. He knows it doesn’t just go like that, and he knows Alert reads us at the end of every shift, and he wants us to leave Alert alone so that he wouldn’t be as paranoid all the time....”  
“.... He is extra paranoid since that absolutely nonsense attack on Bumblebee....”  
“.... Yeah, that was just perfectly pointless. We still don’t know whose numbskull idea it was. Anyway, Blaster says we shouldn’t be trying to drive Red Alert crazy. Which is, of course, not what we intend to do....”  
At this point, Rumble gave a barely noticeable sign towards the ceiling.   
“....at least, not what we would ever admit to intend to do” Frenzy continued. “He is fun to irritate, boss. Not quite as Starscream was....”  
“....but better than Octane or Astrotrain.”  
A very light buzz could be heard as the two collars vibrated for a nanosec.   
“We’ve got to go, boss” Rumble murmured. “But we will be back whenever we can.”  
“We will tell Alert that we’re willing to clean out the pressure sensors in the wasteyard’s corridors, so that he can tell who and when is stealing what from the precious little junk pile. Then he will certainly let us back again.”  
“Yes, or Blaster will, because we will be both reeking like a lavatory” Rumble said, again pointing up at the ceiling.   
\---------  
Elita-One was the closest to Optimus, she was his encouragement, his strength, his faith. But it was a rare and treasurable moment when she could be closest to him physically.  
She was massaging pure Rigelian oil into the battered red frame of her beloved, her blue optics marking each and every scratch that the war (and especially Megatron) left on him.   
“You are the best thing I ever had” the larger mech murmured. “And that includes the Matrix, and the double-distillated high-grade I had in that pub in Helex....”   
“And maybe I’m even better than the righteous rest you have never been given” Elita teased him.  
“Yes, even better than that. If I can have you by my side, it’s worth a whole vorn’s troubles.”  
The deep pink femme leant closer to the Prime, and smeared his nose with the Rigelian oil. She helped him remove his blue helmet, and put it aside.   
“I don’t believe in justice” she said. “You’ve been away for one hundred and fifteen thousand vorns.”  
“And troubles are still not over yet” Optimus murmured, as he dipped his finger in the oil can, and drew a clown-smile on Elita’s face with the organic material. “I’m home and alive, let’s be glad of the mercy many great mechs didn’t live to see.”  
Elita smiled, making the oily clown-face appear even more caricature-like.  
“You are home and alive, for a change” she muttered, rubbing her face to Prime’s shoulder. “And I’m undoubtedly happy with that. But would you please tell me how long we’re going to keep him in the basement?”  
“Long enough to make him jealous. Because I have you, and nobody else does.” That was the diplomatic answer, and Elita-One understood: Optimus wished to live in a perfect world with no enmity around the globe, but until that, he was happy to just lay back for a few breems and enjoy his bondmate’s attention. Elita, of course, was more than willing to give him that.


	6. Chapter five

Ratchet’s fluent cursing echoed from under the prison’s inhabited levels. No-one had the courage to examine what he was doing, and after three orns Red Alert decided it was the lesser bad to let him be and let him do whatever he was doing to Shockwave. With Soundwave having been moved to the administration room’s proximity, the death row was left entirely to the mad medic.   
Ratchet seemed to appreciate this change, but he had locked Shockwave’s cell before rolling round the corridors and accurately disconnecting the cameras on the entire level. Then he placed a few jammers and retreated to the cell, and continued doing..... well, whatever he had been doing for three orns by then.  
Soundwave, no matter how the Autobots tried to make him talk, denied to be any wiser than the enemy. When his two Cassettes were given back to him after a hard shift, he told them to spread contradicting information and to watch how the gossip would grow into an urban legend. Frenzy improvized five nightmare stories on the spot, of which Soundwave told him not to ever bring up the last one.  
“But why, boss? That is the least plausible. We all know it is medically impossible to change a mech that much.”  
“The problem is, mechs wouldn’t believe the other four versions either, if you said something as silly as that” Rumble pointed out. He gave a small winkle, too quick for the security cameras to notice, but enough for the other two to understand: this was the official explanation, one for the security cams, and whatever that could really be discussed about the topic was not to be on record.   
Exactly three and a half breems after the two tiny mechs’ arrival, Soundwave went to the washrack. Just like the rest of this cell, it was full of sensors – but none that a flight-capable small mechanism couldn’t avoid.   
Laserbeak was waiting in the ventilation system, her small dark and red frame hardly more than an extra layer of metal on the tube. She wished she could sneak as close to her carrier as the twins were, to feel his heavy, yet gentle palm on her head, to feel the familiar spark close to her own, to let their energy fields overlap and slightly interfere.... but she knew what such luxury would cost. She didn’t want the collar Rumble and Frenzy were wearing. She didn’t want to be monitored. She had to stay unnoticed, she had to remain free and out of the Autobots’ reach. She had to relay the information she gathered, and she had to accept new orders without Soundwave as much as seeing her. At least, the big mech could convincingly sing under the shower.   
“Just like the old days, the old days, Cyberton’s glory will not fade....”  
(“Ugh, you’re unbearable, boss! Couldn’t you sing ‘War dawn’ instead?” Frenzy shouted from the other room.)  
“I have found my leader, our great lord and our strongest warrior, the one I serve, the one I deserve....”  
(“Or sing about Thunderblast and how we stole her outer armor when she was stuck in shifting sand!”)  
“He is on Cybertron, and soon this place will shatter in his hands, our foes will melt to tin.... Rumble do you have a word that rhymes with ‘Prime’?”  
“’Slime’?”  
Laserbeak chirped that the guard might have noticed the cut bars in the ventilation system, so she’d better get out before she would be trapped or noticed.   
“Admit it, you just don’t like me singing” Soundwave said aloud, pretending to be deeply hurt by the realization. Certainly he was a data handler and analyst by creation, not a singer.... but Cybertron wasn’t a functionalist planet anymore. He could do what he wanted to... Besides, he was certain Laserbeak understood him well enough, so his horrible singing was justified.  
\------  
A low-ranking techie called Limits stared down at the communicube in his hands. Ever since he got this job in prison maintenance, this was the first time his superior, his real superior contacted him.  
“I will try and talk to him, sir, but he and Elita have already expressed their desire to take the sparkling into their own custody. Not to mention Blaster, who had promised the same to Red Alert’s two cassettes. We only come in third, and Optimus is not the Prime any of us would willingly mess with.”  
“Yes, but is the medic available?”  
“No, sir, definitely not.”  
“Then we will provide the sparkling his first frame. It will have a few hidden extras.”  
Limits nodded.  
“I have already seen Red Alert with a few sketches that were most likely done either by Soundwave or the cassettes. I will transmit them as soon as I have them.”  
“Good. Will he be a carrier too?”  
Limits wished he could just say ‘It’s complicated’.   
“Yes and no. He would be compatible with the Cassetticons, but he would be more complex and less vulnerable in the chest area.”  
That still sounded like a ‘yes’.   
“Our deeply respected senator won’t like it.”  
Slag him, then, Limits thought. The communicube went offline in his hands.  
“I don’t believe in justice anymore” he muttered as he put the device aside. He would, perhaps, remain a low-ranking techie for the rest of his life. He will have to struggle with the prison cameras while the big guns like Highbrow or Brainstorm get to build the frame of Megatron and Soundwave’s sparklet.   
He looked out of his tiny window, up at the dark metallic walls of the facility. Odd, he would have sworn the ventilation exhaust on the right was open only a few moments ago. At least he won’t have to climb up there and fix it. He can sit here and lament to himself about how unfair his existence always is.   
He looked so miserable, Laserbeak would have laughed at him if she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.   
\--------  
“Do you trust me?”  
“I understand what you aim to do” was the answer. “I approve of your intentions.”  
“But?”  
“Soundwave failed to do that, and he is an expert.”  
“I’m not the one to start a ‘better medic’ championship, but just watch what tricks he could not pull.”  
“You’d better succeed, or just let me waltz away the way I am now.”  
“So you don’t trust me.”  
“I believe I never will.”  
“I will prove you wrong.”


	7. Chapter six

Soundwave enjoyed the long-missed presence of Frenzy and Rumble. Blaster had indeed permitted them to stay with their former carrier, and the Decepticon communication specialist was unspeakably grateful for this.  
Not that he wasn’t suspicious. He knew that when the twins logged in to his systems just like in the good old days, they also immediately gained access to his data banks. And they would later be read by Red Alert, the mech who kept countless camera-eyes on him anyway. Not that he minded being watched, but sharing his plans with the Autobot security officer wasn’t on his to-do list. For their own good, and for the Decepticons in large, Soundwave had to keep certain data hidden from the twins. Luckily, they understood, but still: Soundwave felt as if he deprived his own self from them, his own information – now, when his time was so limited.   
The sparklet was growing, healthy and strong, now sharing his spark’s energy with those of Frenzy and Rumble.   
It wasn’t like carrying the Cassettes. Cassetticons were separate beings, although dependent on him to a varying degree. This sparklet, although very much alive, wasn’t a conscious parameter in his structure yet, and obviously he wasn’t present in Soundwave’s processor like his tiny fragments of destruction were.   
Soundwave got off the berth, and walked to the tiny window. He stared into the empty night, and the evening breeze caressed his whole frame – an input he immediately transmitted to those logged in to him. Both Frenzy and Rumble registered what he felt, and pinged him back immediately. Even Ravage felt to acknowledge, although he no longer was there, no longer a part of him.   
So much like Ratbat. And so much unlike, too.  
Soundwave didn’t need to ask the twins whether they sensed the looming presence of their dead cohort-mate. He knew they did, and they cherished the time they could be inside Soundwave, when they still had the intimacy of being one and strong again, being complete..... for a little, little while.   
The big mech pressed his hand on the closed cassette deck, analyzing his own emotions towards the sparklet. Deep care, deeper than how he felt towards the Cassetticons. Hope. Bitterness, because he would never get to see the sparkling that will become of his sparklet, because he loved to be alive, and because he couldn’t help hoping the sparklet would never grow strong and separate from him. When the sparklet will be mature enough, in a few more orns from now, Soundwave will die. Currently it was the youngling who protected him from his captors, and electrically induced spark overload wasn’t a pretty death to be honest.   
Hate? Did he hate that the sparklet will soon grow into a sparkling? Did he hate the sparklet for his soon abandoning his carrier, leaving him to the Autobots’ rage? Did he hate himself for feeling so?   
He certainly felt ashamed. Ashamed because the current situation was mostly his fault, the result of his own greed, the punishment for thinking he would show the insidious senator who the boss really is. He used to hope he would be in charge. And he was, for thousands of vorns, throughout all the war, and he grew careless when he could read the guileful politician like he could read any other cassettes.   
And that was where he had made the mistake. Ratbat survived the humiliation of being reduced to a puny disposable frame, and adapted to his new life as one cunning mechanism among the many. He was good at manipulating, he always was. And in the war that ensued, it never occured to anyone that he would end up with the Autobots only to take revenge. Ratbat must have been planning for years, hiding his plans from his loyalist carrier and topmost target until time was right. As soon as he was certain to hold all the cards on Cybertron again, he betrayed the mech who had once betrayed him. And now all the Decepticons, those who fought in the war with the hopes of conquering Cybertron and taking over their rightful share in the universe, had to be reduced to what they were before Megatron’s rebellion. And this time, who knew where their leader was?   
Soundwave touched his deck again, this time, thinking of his sparklet with awe. He might grow to be the new leader. He must inherit the charisma and strength of Megatron. But what will he get from Soundwave? His Cassetticons, that was certain. What else? His telepathy perhaps? The passion of keeping his subordinates in a good condition? And, if his assumption was correct, the sparklet was due to inherit some traits from the Prime too. Soundwave wasn’t sure if he liked that fact.  
He wondered how Megatron would feel if he knew that his sparkling would be, to a degree, Optimus Prime’s sparkling too. On the surface, he would be angry, trying to hide his hurt pride – because deep inside, he would be still proud of the sparklet. Yes, Soundwave knew his boss to be a smug mechanism when it came to creating something grandiose and powerful.   
The dark blue mech walked back to the berth, although when he sat down, he continued staring at the window. Dawn was far away. The dawn of those very few days he would still live to see.   
\-------  
In the documentation, this hidden chamber was a barely used storage room of Autobot security. Some weapons were tossed in here, those deemed to be forgotten about. Weapons the high-ranking officers didn’t ever mention.   
Highbrow picked up a rust gun. One direct hit from this would be enough to kill an enforcer. Perhaps with good aiming it would also wipe out a whole gestalt, if the members aren’t quick enough to deconnect from the dying central mech. It still needed to be tested on a phase-sixer. Those were of relatively normal size with some coating protecting them from physical impact. Oh, well, that test could now be carried out with ease. Blackshadow, Overlord and Sixshot were unconsciously lying in cloaked spaceships, orbiting around three dead planets, each they destroyed themselves. Some odd justice of fate, Highbrow mused. The three mechs would never be found by stragglers, because they didn’t leave anything that’s worth seeking on those worlds they were now orbiting.   
Highbrow glimpsed at the rust gun in his hand. If it doesn’t work on the top-category Decepticons, they would also try adding mycopropelene to the rusting acid, as Chromedome had successfully retrieved its recipe from Skyfall. Its effectiveness also had to be clarified on the superheavy class. As for the test subject, well, Soundwave had said that Overlord wouldn’t be of use anyway.  
Now, on to those sketches Flame left behind.   
\-------  
Not knowing about the weapons some of his people planned to arm the developing sparklet with, Optimus Prime was lying on the recharge berth he usually shared with Elita. But this time, he wasn’t with his beloved.  
His spark ached, in a similar way the Matrix had burnt Soundwave’s spark a few orns before.   
“I hope you can feel this too!” he murmured, not that he expected an answer.   
But what did he expect? Some understanding, a word of thanks? Seriously, does he never learn?  
But speaking is one thing, emotions are completely separate. So close to his bare spark, Optimus could feel some respect and gratitude, carefully wrapped into hatred and disdain.   
“I will take care of the sparklet, I promise.”  
The glow of the Matrix seemed to flicker, then bust into a mesmerizing fountain of light. The Prime instinctively knew this to be his own pure love he had felt towards the sparklet, the first spark to be born after a horrible war. Primus must have been feeling mischievous when he allowed it to be Megatron’s offspring. Or was it maybe forgiveness? Did he decide to give Megatron one last chance to leave something good in the wake of the destruction he caused?  
Optimus rested a blue hand on the gun that was currently laid across his chest.   
“You tend to so overcomplicate my life” he muttered, as if to himself.   
\----------  
The two bird-cassetticons pulled closer to each other in their windy hidy-hole. Buzzsaw rested his head on Laserbeak’s wing, who chirped back to him bitterly. Mornings were so cold out here! They could survive it, of course, but wouldn’t have it been better to recharge in Soundwave’s chest, enjoying his calm presence, his powerful electromagnetic field, his dark and welcoming aura? Laserbeak twirped again, and rubbed her head to Buzzsaw’s. The older birdformer squawked back an encouraging small cry. They will get Soundwave out of the prison, he was certain. But that would happen only after the sparkling was safe in his new frame – if the Autobots are seriously as naive as to arm him. Laserbeak was more worried about the programming glitches the ‘Bots intended to place in the not yet sparked frame, but again, Buzzsaw rubbed against her, and when he sensed the tension of the younger Cassetticon, he gently scratched her back between her wings with his beak. Laserbeak didn’t have to worry about those code-lines. Buzzsaw wasn’t a beginner when it came to outsmarting the Institute, although he wasn’t invincible, either.  
But maybe it was time for him to leave. He had to be back on his perch before the Autobots would enter the facility, or else his cover would be blown. Laserbeak chirmed at him, reluctant to give up on the soothing comfort of her elder.   
He would be back, Buzzsaw tweeted. Until then, didn’t Laserbeak also have work to do? As far as they understood Soundwave’s singing, Megatron was alive and Prime had to know where he was. Laserbeak squeaked in an annoyed tone: Optimus is still on sick leave after the battle of Catomim A, and the multiple merges with Soundwave to keep the sparklet properly energized had also drained his energy. Most of the time, he was not going anywhere. And besides, he was mostly in the company of other Autobots. How could following him around be of any good? Nighttime, yes, that would be important to watch where he is going, especially when he disappears for Elita-One’s territory.   
All of a sudden, both birdformers silenced as they heard the roar of an Autobot shuttle’s engines. It wasn’t a sparked one, no. But it was taking off from the Institute’s hangar bay.   
Laserbeak immediately knew what to do. She would come back to track Optimus Prime later.


	8. Chapter seven

Blaster was pacing in front of the Prime’s office. He had to talk to Optimus, he seriously had to. He gave his word to the twin Cassettes. But why? Why was he a soft-spark to promise such thing, to plead for the life of his enemy? Because they had something in common? Yes, two Cassetticons, that’s what they had in common. Two troublesome, aggressive twin Cassetticons who take delight in destruction.... as long as it’s not the destruction of Soundwave, who very well deserves to be killed by electrically induced spark overload. But here he was, staring out of the window in front of Prime’s office, looking down at the large Autobot emblem above the main entrance, asking himself, WHY.   
Perhaps, because they were not prepared. Because he was not prepared, in the morning, to be waken by two panicking Cassetticons who swore they would do anything he asks, if he doesn’t tell the other Autobots about Soundwave. If he won’t let Red Alert read them today. If he just gives them more time.   
Blaster was skeptic and experienced. He was prepared for the duo trying to play tricks on him, attempting to fool him, so before he even considered giving in to the tiny Decepticons’ pleas, he wanted to read both Cassetticons himself.   
And it turned out that they were saying the truth about their carrier.  
The medics’ prediction about the Matrix substituting the real sire’s energy was wrong. No, not the survival part, quite the contrary. The plan had worked just too well. One more merge, and soon afterwards the sparklet would be mature enough to be separated from Soundwave’s own spark. He had to tell Optimus. And.... he had to trust Prime would come up with something to spare the Decepticon carrier’s life. Rumble and Frenzy were not yet prepared to say goodbye to him. Really. Whoever sentenced Soundwave to death, didn’t they consider how it feels for a cassette to depart from his carrier, knowing he would be executed? In a quite brutal way? Not that Soundwave shouldn’t have considered the risk of this happening before he pledged loyalty to Megatron....  
Prime’s ping on his frequency caught him in the middle of a mess of his thoughts.   
::Blaster, I have been told you are waiting for me at my office. I am sorry old friend, but it looks like, if you want to see me you will have to come to the Iacon Medibay:: He sounded rather weak.  
::Optimus! Is something wrong with you?::  
::Nothing worse than the strain on my spark for the past few weeks. I had a white-out in the morning::  
A white-out? As in, the spark overloading with energy beyond the mech’s control?  
::Prime, what did Elita do to you? Did you try some new kinks, or what?:: he joked, trying to sound less worried than he actually was. One white-out could mean more were going to happen. They were like foreshocks before an earthquake. And.... it was a dangerous condition. A spark-threatening condition, to say it out loud.  
::Blaster, please. And for your information, Elita was the one who found me:: Weak tone, yes, but calm and confident. Prime didn’t want him to be worried about him.  
All right, then. Blaster was still very concerned with his superior’s well-being, but he was willing to play along.  
::So what were you doing to yourself, heh, Optimus? I thought a mech with your reputation would be wiser than to play with himself on quiet mornings:: His reprimand sounded almost as if he meant it. Of course, if Prime wanted to pleasure himself to an overload, why wouldn’t have he done so? Apart from being still in recovery after all those battles.  
No, something was still not right here. No sane mech would desire any truly intimate activities if they were as broken as Optimus was. Prime was wiser than to take such risks. And why was he alone for that, when he is finally together with Elita-One?  
Something was very much out of place here.  
\----------  
Laserbeak transformed from her data stick mode. Until now, she was just a tiny piece of metal on the Autobot shuttle’s surface, but now that she understood where they were going, furthermore her camera picked up the anomaly that could only be a cloaked spaceship orbiting the dead planet, she didn’t need to disguise herself anymore. Quite not. Instead, she needed talons and a beak to physically disable the shuttle’s communication systems, to tear apart the amplifiers and to truncate the antennae. Now all she had to do was to get into the cabin and grab the flask of Gideon’s Glue before saying her goodbye to the shuttle: she hacked the navigation system and set the shuttle to pass the cloaked ship by a few meters and continue on a collision course with the planet Overlord long ago wiped clean.  
She wasn’t capable of long space travel, but a few meters she was certain to manage.   
\--------  
“Optimus, you are the most irresponsible patient I had in my praxis. IR-RES-PON-SIB-LE. Haven’t I told you to be careful?”  
“It’s good to see you again, Ratchet. How is your big and impossible plan going?”  
Now that was a question Optimus Prime should have not asked.  
“I have wasted an entire orn with one finger only” Ratchet murmured.  
“Better not ask” Wheeljack translated.   
“I am.... I’m sorry to hear that.”  
“You should be more concerned with your own spark, Optimus! You are the Prime, you should be the one to lead us, you cannot afford to die like some replaceable hero.”  
“Yes, Ratchet” the Prime dutifully sighed.  
“Your spark energy level now seems to be back to normal, however” the docbot continued in a more civilized manner. “Well, normal for what you are doing. You had better take a break, I think. I need to scan Soundwave too, but from what I see, that sparklet will very well survive if you leave them alone for an orn or two.”  
“That’s exactly what I was about to request” an orange and red communication officer said as he entered the room.  
“Blaster!   
\-------------  
Soundwave didn’t understand why the guards suddenly showed up, and although he read their minds on the way, he wasn’t any wiser as they led him into the medibay.   
Ratchet and Wheeljack were there, the two most important factors for now. Blaster, radiating sympathy, as if he needed any. The two guards that brought him here, and one more who joined them later and was clearly more interested in the sparklet than the other two combined. Then, there was Optimus Prime, emanating weakness and strength at the same time. Strength? Not only. By giving a closer look, Soundwave would have rather called it power. Energy. Excess energy, something that wasn’t, shouldn’t have been his. The two guards who brought him here already left. The one who came later wanted to stay, but he was thanked for his troubles and locked out of the medibay.  
The Autobots made him sit down on the berth in the middle, they asked questions Soundwave answered. He was now certain why he was here: because his sparklet was almost ready to part from his spark, and because the Autobots’ great Prime couldn’t take this exhausting task for much longer. Two orns from now, and he would become a parent.  
A dead parent, of that.  
As he scanned the room for any means of escape, he picked up Ratchet’s unusually bad mood. He took a closer look at that.  
Oh, he should have guessed. The medic tried and failed. Some wounds are not going to ever heal, no matter how good the doctor is. Ratchet was about to repair something that was simply not there anymore.  
And this was exactly the opportunity the blackmail specialist was hoping for.   
“I might be able to provide what doctor Ratchet needs” he announced in his resonant monotone. “Offer: the discarded personality coding. Wanted: one entire orn spent with my sparkling.”  
Everyone was staring at him in dull surprise.  
“Supposing Optimus accepts your offer, supposing he knows what you are offering....” Blaster started.  
“I think I do” the Prime added quietly. Blaster fought hard to suppress a horrified grimace at how weak his respected leader’s sound echoed.  
“How can we know it is what Ratchet wants?”  
“How did you get it?” Wheeljack inquired.  
“Shockwave said you already tried once” Ratchet pointed out. “And failed.”  
“Shockwave: too logical” was the reply. “Plan in the past: breaking the logical thinking of a rival. Fighting back: unavoidable reaction. But his current status would turn incomperably better if restored to full coding.”  
“Excuse me?” Blaster tried.  
“And how did you get...?” Ratchet stared, ignoring the red and orange communication specialist.  
“Soundwave: didn’t. Buzzsaw: did. Decepticon sympathizers disappearing never gone unnoticed.” What a pity Ratbat wasn’t one to disappear, Soundwave silently wished. “Buzzsaw’s alternate mode: modified datastick. Contains entire collection of files Institute hoped to be rid of.”  
“You used their knowledge to blackmail others, didn’t you?” Wheeljack asked.  
“No bot complained.”  
Blaster looked around. Clearly he missed something. Was he the only one in this room who didn’t know what was going on?   
“Now we will only have to find that slagging bird” Wheeljack murmured. Soundwave looked at Blaster, who just shrugged a shoulder.  
\----------  
The ‘slagging bird’ was staring down at Highbrow in awe. This mech had only been told a few hours ago that the frame they were building for Soundwave and Megatron’s sparkling would need to be completed much sooner than they had previously thought, and there, it was already half-done. The mostly blue builder was positioning the deep-set programming into the metallocranium. Beauty of fate, Buzzsaw thought. This mech was thinking that by this, they would be able to keep the youngling under their control. The way Highbrow was welding the inner housing indicated how much he wouldn’t want anyone to ever tamper with those code lines.  
And possibly noone ever will, because it had already happened. Buzzsaw was proud of himself with a good reason. He heard the other day a mnemosurgeon talking about how unnoticeable his work usually was. Ha! Working unnoticeably starts here, Tumbler. Stumbler.   
Well, he had one large advantage: Laserbeak. Whenever the Autobots spotted a birdformer spying on them, it almost always turned out to be Laserbeak. She was Megatron’s most trusted soldier, granted. But for some odd reason these mechs never asked themselves why he, Buzzsaw was so rarely seen. And whenever he was actually spotted somewhere, he acted violently just to increase the prejudice that he would never make a subtle spy.   
And after those rampages, he returned to his former perch and continued watching the unsuspecting ‘Bots.


	9. Chapter eight

Optimus and Soundwave had been left alone in the medibay for what they both knew to be the last time. There was some awkwardness in the situation for both of them: the Autobot couldn’t hide his mixed feelings about the Decepticon’s oncoming death, the Decepticon was eager to exploit any further weaknesses that could help him survive, if only a little longer. Just to give Laserbeak time to find Megatron and save the day. If that meant losing Shockwave to these do-gooders, well, they have suffered worse losses before. Starscream’s death was perhaps more important than letting go of a scientist. Who would lead the Decepticon Air Force after him?  
The Matrix didn’t hurt nearly as much as it initially had. It was still a powerful source invading his own spark, but the sparklet took up most of the radiance, and Ravage was also there to shield him. Very carefully Soundwave felt along the connection between himself and the artefact, knowing that next time, he would be seeing it from the inside, if at all.   
He noted the absence of Overlord in there. He didn’t exactly understand why he had formerly appeared there in the first place, perhaps it had to do with him being a godmaster. But what was certain: he used to be in here, and he was not. Soundwave had yet to understand why.   
Further along, behind the Matrix’s glory, there was the luminous presence of Optimus Prime. All the strength to carry the burden of his Prime-ness throughout a civil war and beyond. All the greatness to be a leader and to remain one. He felt the gentleness combined with a capacity to halt an entire Decepticon army if he had to. With a shocking level of understanding.  
When Soundwave asked for one orn he would spend with his sparkling, he wasn’t only thinking about gaining more time. Nor was he sentimental about seeing his sparkling alive and well, although it would have been a luxury he very much wished for. But the main and most simple reason was that the sparkling would see him, meet him, talk to him, remember him. After one orn, their bond would be so strong that even the most vengeanceful Wrecker would hesitate before tearing them apart. Soundwave was hoping to use this for his own survival. If the Autobots would just argue about him a little while, that might be enough.... And now he found out that Optimus didn’t only see through this plan, but he even approved of it. They were enemies, yes, and the Matrix was between their sparks safely all the time, but there still was a certain bond between them, weak and unwanted, but undeniable.   
Wasn’t this some level of betrayal on both sides? What would Megatron think about it? Would he see it as a weakness like he usually considered such connections, or would he see it like Soundwave had: an opportunity?   
Questions.... and Soundwave could only hope that he would live to know the answers.   
\--------------  
“’Dome, have you seen the helm opener?”  
“It should be on the upper shelf somewhere.”  
“Yes it should, but it fragging isn’t!”  
“I’ve seen Scalp using it the day before.”  
“Ah, when he was retrieving data from the Combaticon leader?”  
“He was working in the JR room.”  
“Blast. Can’t he just learn not to leave everything scattered about?”  
“I tried convincing him” Chromedome lifted up a very needled hand, showing just how much he tried to convince his colleague to keep their tools in order.  
“And? Halfway inside you got scared of the black hole in his head?”  
“No. I couldn’t get into him, because the helm opener was gone!”  
“I don’t understand why we can’t get a new opener. Guns? Anytime! Weapons of mass destruction? As many as we need! Megatron’s firstborn sparkling? Yes of course. But we still have to use that outfragged helm opener that was made in Trepan’s time?!”  
\------------  
Ratchet was staring up at the sky, trying not to think about what Optimus and Soundwave were doing to each other in the other room. He couldn’t ignore his fear for his leader. Prime was strong, yes, but the burden on his shoulders was more than he could bear. And when they are done, what will happen to them both? He seriously worried about Optimus Prime. Sure, he and Soundwave were not spark-bonded, but they might be close enough that Prime would feel the Decepticon’s death almost as if it were his own. Here Ratchet’s line of thought took a rapid turn. How much does Soundwave know about such bonds? When will he notice that he should have felt Megatron’s end, when will he work out why he didn’t? Silly, naive question. He already has. And when a blackmail specialist knows a secret, he is only waiting for the right time to uncover it.  
Slag.  
But what was that? Something flying. Flying towards them. A Decepticon!  
Ratchet was glad he thought twice before shooting the flightframe. With a blaster in his hand, the docbot opened the window, and soon Buzzsaw landed on the sill. He looked up at the Chief Medical Officer, his look telling that he very well knew what was going on and why Soundwave called him. Not asking for permission, he stepped in, then transformed. The docbot cooped him up in his hands halfway between his modes.  
Buzzsaw continued his transformation unbothered, and soon Ratchet was holding a very odd tool in his hand. It looked like a pizza-cutter, only, the handle was wider and the circular saw had an extremely sharp-looking blade. It could cut through the toughest armor with ease.   
Suspiciously the docbot turned the device. On the other side, he discovered old, blurred glyphs that read “New Institute”. Now he understood what it was. A helm opener! Or maybe not. Not only. As Ratchet touched the base of the saw, the blade turned aside to reveal a plug. Practically, the handle of the inglorious tool was a data stick, with the circular blade as the cap. If anyone would have attempted to read it without Buzzsaw’s consent, the unauthorized mech would have lost several fingers.  
But the flightframe spy was, just this time, willing to give the docbot a few files he had gathered many thousand vorns ago.  
\-----------  
As Soundwave felt further along the Matrix, he could feel the Prime’s emotions and thoughts flowing through him. This sensation was far from new to the blackmail-specialist telepath, but the intensity could only be compared to his connection to the Cassetticons when they were inside his chest. He had longed for this type of contact, this level of intimacy, this lack of borderlines between himself and another mechanism. He couldn’t let Rumble or Frenzy this close to him, not as long as they would be read by Blaster and Red Alert afterwards. He couldn’t even touch his two birdformers. Ravage, the closest to him, was dead, although not entirely gone. And Ratbat broke his connection to him, the puny traitor. Soundwave didn’t even want to hear about him.  
Optimus Prime’s presence filled him, the closeness provided comfort and focus to the blue carrier. The sparkling would live, thanks to the hypocrisy of the Autobot leader. He would grow strong, ready to part from his spark in just a few days. If Red Alert told the Cassetticons the truth, the frame for the offspring was already in the making. He knew, mostly from Laserbeak, that Buzzsaw was keeping an optic on the builders ever since the first sketches had been delivered to them.  
All in all, what Optimus had been doing to him was not nearly as unbearable as he had initially thought. He took the situation as a horrible, humiliating necessity to save the sparklet’s life. What he felt at the moment, instead, was the security of the Prime’s hug, a brilliant radiance of the Matrix connecting to his own spark, and to that of the offspring.   
It was not the time when he could tell what was on the mind of the enemy leader, as he knew he was the center of Optimus’s attention for the moment. But there was a shade of another presence whom Optimus was thinking of before this merge. It was just a fading sensation, a memory of a long-lost friend and mentor, and the bittersweet hope that he could get him back if Ratchet succeeds.   
Yes, just before their final merge, Optimus was still thinking about the uncharacteristic, unreadable Shockwave, and about the mech he once used to be. This hope was still shining through Optimus Prime’s spark, the nascent will to help the wounded, to repair what was destroyed, to undo the damage that was done.   
Soundwave remembered the time he tried to pull the same stunt. Shockwave, the logical, had calculated that the Decepticons would be better off without the constant infights, and started to remove some unwanted variables of the great Decepticon equation – and Soundwave didn’t need telepathy to find Frenzy on his to-get-killed list. Before turning to more radical weapons, Soundwave had tried to hack his rival and forcefully re-upload the personality coding that Buzzsaw was still carrying. He had hoped a little more emotion would make Shockwave more reasonable, and easier to read and predict his movements. That forced upload had failed, Shockwave’s firewalls were too effective, and Soundwave finally turned to less subtle ways of convincing him about leaving his Cassetticon alone. Eventually he replayed some security footage from Darkmount to the over-logical one, hinting that the Decepticon Justice Division might not share Shockwave’s views about using Polyhex’s lord as a bait to the Dead Universe. The purple cyclops was not the least afraid of the DJD, but he understood correctly that becoming their target would not do good to his long-term plans or his personal integrity. That was enough an achievement for Soundwave and Frenzy, back then.  
Optimus wanted more, of course. For him, Shockwave was a wound in the spark, a loss he had to face, a proof and reminder that the truckformer wasn’t all-powerful and couldn’t always save everyone. Soundwave would have preferred to leave it at that. One failure less or more in a million-years-long war, who would care. Who would care? Apart from Optimus Prime, of course, who had valued every life except for his own.  
\-----------  
Space was dark, cold, limitless. Just like the lone mech who was crossing it in his tank-attached-to-jet mode.   
::Laserbeak, your master had better been right about Megatron:: he aired on a short-range radio. The birdformer was attached to his jet-wing, yet they had to rely on their radio transmitters for communication, as space wasn’t exactly the best environment for sound and voice transfer.   
::Would you turn around if he were wrong?::  
Good question, albeit provocative.  
::Saving Soundwave is becoming a very bad habit of mine:: Overlord replied. ::I’m asking because if not even the DJD could pick up Megatron’s life signals, then it doesn’t leave many options about his whereabouts::  
::Buzzsaw says there is a traitor among them::  
::Why does that fail to surprise me?::  
Then, there was nothing but the emptiness of space. Blessed silence that steadies the warrior’s spark for the oncoming battle.   
Overlord’s CPU loaded old files he once took from the mind of his teacher. That mech had an excessive knowledge. Of course, at that time Overlord was more interested in how to get data out from another being, instead of the actual information he gained. But now he was going to use it nevertheless.   
He set his sensors on Laserbeak for an astrosecond and considered putting his hard-gained experience to use, but then he decided against it. The very first lesson Trepan had taught him was that an interface is always a two-way data transfer, and the more a mech understands about the subtleties of such connections, the more he is aware of the downsides. And Laserbeak was sitting on his wing, too temptingly vulnerable. It had to be a trap. The bird-cassette was Soundwave’s most active spy – if Overlord let just one bad bit of information slip from him, it would end up with Soundwave in no time. And no fool would be willing to give up things like the complete map of Cybertron’s obscure, dreaded Institute.  
\-------------  
By the time Soundwave and Optimus emerged from the medical facility’s small chamber, the twins were already chatting with Buzzsaw and Wheeljack was talking to Blaster about the newest findings in frame studies and Ratchet was already back to the lowest prison area.   
“You may or may not judge me for this, Soundwave, but I will miss you” the Prime admitted.  
“Rather the ’may not’ option” Soundwave replied. “I don’t believe in justice.” Optimus knew this sentiment was true. Decepticons and justice very, very rarely matched.  
“I have already pinged Prowl and Red Alert about your one extra orn” Blaster informed him. “I told them I would be supervising you, this is the only way to let the twins in there with you.”  
“Good idea” their large, red, worn-out leader murmured.  
Wheeljack had seen Optimus after several of his battles that he had just merely survived, but the way he looked now had really scared the inventor. He looked tired. And used. His overall energy level was back to normal, but the circuit feeds were off balance. His optics were flickering, his transformation cogs were spinning with every step he took.   
“You need to take a rest, Optimus. Ratchet will chop me up with a rusty scalpel if I don’t get you on a recharge berth soon.”  
“And I will make sure everyone will leave you alone until you are fit for duty” Blaster added.


	10. Chapter nine

“PRIIIIME!”  
Optimus lifted his head, then pushed himself to a sitting position. He had been recharging for two joors, and he could have continued it if Blaster hadn’t waken him up. His main processors were still sluggish, but the battle programming already booted and now it was doing an analysis of recent events he might have missed.  
Honestly, he couldn’t remember how he got home. Home? No, not really, he was in the doctors’ rest room of the medical facility. But Elita-One was booting up next to him, so not everything was lost yet. But why was Blaster screaming his name?  
A half-asleep Elita nudged her head to his elbow, then she grabbed his waist with one pretty pink arm.  
“I can still feel them on you. Both.”  
Optimus gently caressed the femme’s face with his other hand.  
“Don’t go” Elita pleaded with him. “You have already done so much. Noone has the right to expect more of you.”  
“Blaster wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t urgent” Prime replied. He threw his arms around Elita-One, she pressed her left cheek to his chest window.   
The door opened and Blaster stormed into the room with Wheeljack on his tailpipe.  
“Optimus, I know you should be recharging and all, but you must see this!”  
“See what?”  
Wheeljack grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room, across the corridor, into the room on the opposite side, and to the window.   
“Prowl’s office” Blaster said.   
Optimus squinted. Clearly, his optics had not yet set to function today, as all he could register was a mob of civilians staring up at the large Autobot insignia above the entrance. He was so tired that he didn’t even know whether the sigil was designed after the tactician’s face, or the other way around. All he could remember in this early hour was that Prowl had always been an enigmatic Autobot ever since he knew him, and his face very much resembled the Autobot insignia. Other than that, yes, normally there shouldn’t be a blast in the building’s structure where the right optic of the symbol should have been.   
He thanked Blaster and Wheeljack and told them not to wake him again. But on his way back to the berth, his mind was occupied with what he had seen. It seemed like a declaration of war, but for that, it was just a few hundred thousand vorns too late.  
\--------------  
High above the mob of Autobots, stood the elegant spire in which most politicians had their offices settled. And now a flight-capable senator was staring at the unmistakable message in growing terror.  
He had planned everything so precisely, so genially well. This should not be happening. He should be safe here. The Autobots had a mole in the DJD, especially to take care of deserters like he was. His power base was safe here, he had so many of his co-workers under his influence one way or the other. Why did the DJD have to shatter many vorns’ work, the righteous reward for many thousands of vorns humiliations? He helped the Autobots end this war, he helped them execute Megatron, what else should have he done? The tiny senator flapped his wings angrily. He might as well go and hide in those cavern-like corridors like some organic bat would. He won’t see Soundwave’s death. He won’t see the sparkling being forced into the powerful frame that his select few could control remotely. He wasn’t even sure some Autobots won’t take his hardly gained position in his absence. Primus, just why did the DJD have to cross ways with him?  
\----------------  
“All right, then!” Prowl shouted at Springer. “I will task Arcee, then, if you are too coward for this!”   
With 72,14% chance, reverse psychology would work. With some little luck added, it would have been enough to get him out of this trap. There was also an 80,09% chance that Springer would slap him in the face before going after the Decepticons, but he was sure it won’t do much harm to him on the long term.   
To his surprise, however, the Wreckers’ leader simply grabbed him by the neck, lifted him up and placed him on the nearest consol as if he were a tiny human youngster.  
“Let me tell you something, Prowl. If, ever, the DJD makes it past behind your defenses, it will be because of an Autobot showing them the way in. Right?”  
Prowl reluctantly nodded.  
“Although we can’t be sure” he pointed out.  
“You are not worried about the other four and you won’t be either until they grab you by the neck. What really frightens you is an oncoming Autobot infight. An Institute infight” Springer corrected himself. “And don’t anticipate the Wreckers to help you out in that one.”  
Prowl would have taken a step back, if he wouldn’t have been sitting on a consol against his will.  
“Why?”  
Springer lifted up his right hand and held his fingers together, making them resemble Whirl’s talons. “There are very few rules that bind a Wrecker, but those are unbreakable. You messed with one Wrecker, you messed with THE Wreckers. Nor Arcee nor Broadside nor any other of us will assist either side. Take that for granted.”  
“This isn’t about puny personal conflicts, Springer. It is about the entire Autobot faction now. Look, I know what the Institute was like, I have lost my carrying sparkmate to them, but....”  
Oh, that flicker in Springer’s optic. Prowl was very glad to have come up with a new argument in the nick of time.  
“Do you want me to talk about it? Fine! Twitchbrake was a wonderful tactic specialist, she was certain that they would never catch her. She was a hardcore functionalist, she spoke freely and uncensored about how the Senators should have been eating slag because, as she said, that was the only thing they would have been good for. And believed that she was careful enough to avoid any dangers.” As Springer took a half-step backwards, Prowl got down from the consol and pressed closer to him.  
“Guess who caught her? Who brought her to Trepan’s hands? Your Whirl. As I said, she was carrying. Her already overtasked spark couldn’t endure the extra stress during the Shadowplay. That is how I’ve lost a partner and an unborn spark, which is, believe me, nothing less than a loss of two little hands and an ugly face.”  
Prowl thanked Primus that he dwelled into the dirtiest files of the Institute. Back then, he didn’t want to know. A co-worker convinced him that information, spark-breaking or not, would give him advantage sometime. With exactly 65% chance, that time was now.  
“Discuss it with Whirl” Springer decided after some rumination.   
Prowl nodded and left. He was no fool, Whirl had once beaten Megatron half-dead, there was absolutely zero chance that he would let the Autobot second-in-command finish his first sentence. His only remaining option was to tell Optimus Prime everything, and he was not looking forward to that, either.  
\--------------  
“Overlord just landed in the ourskirts of Iacon” a mostly red mech with two white coils on his shoulders announced.  
“Odd choice” a large, barrel-like mechanism added.  
“It’s not like him to quietly land when he could have blasted this crowd for starter” said another, who was wearing a red X-shaped visor on his bored face.  
“Keep tracking him” the group’s leader said. He had a purple Decepticon symbol welded on his face, making his alliance unmistakable. “Whatever he is planning to do, we had better keep tracking him. Kaon, keep us updated but don’t risk losing the senator.”  
The fifth member, who was small for a mech but large for a sniper gun, said something in ancient Cybertronian.  
“Vos is right. Helex, give the leash back to him.”  
The creature on the other end of the chain didn’t seem to mind the barrel-shaped dark mechanism handing his leash to the smaller red one. It was sitting quietly, staring at the entrance of the tunnel. It didn’t exactly look like the safehouses their prey deserters were sometimes hiding at. No.... it looked a lot more challenging.   
“Tarn, we have a guest” Kaon now said, pointing at a tiny black and gold bird flying towards them.   
“Oh, Buzzsaw” the masked leader said, his red optics flashing with malice. If he was here to plead with them for his cohort-mate’s life, the birdformer really shouldn’t have bothered. But it was common courtesy that they would let him talk – he was Soundwave’s Cassetticon, after all. Even if he won’t be able to save Ratbat’s life, they might perhaps consider shortening his suffering. Tarn raised his arm for Buzzsaw to perch on.   
And, in the matter of just one klik, the Division was running in the opposite direction, clearly not interested in Ratbat anymore.  
\------------  
Prowl came to the spacious room in person, then politely waited for Optimus to invite him in. Elita was kind enough to understand he wanted to state his business in private, so she decided to go and get energon for the three of them.   
“Optimus, you have missed out a few things” the second in command started. His distress was clear to his superior, and Optimus guessed it had to do with the blast mark someone left on the optic of the insignia in front of his office. “I swear to you that I will tell the truth, the whole truth that I know of, and if you choose to exile me, I will still be grateful for the honor to have served under you.”  
“Speak up.”  
“Five orns after the battle of Catomim A, Ratbat contacted us. It turned out that he bore a grudge against Soundwave and Megatron, and he wanted revenge for them taking his whole existance away – and he carried out his vengeance when these two were the happiest together. He was a senator once, one of the most vicious and corrupt of the whole Senate. He knew far too well what strings to pull, his offer was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he didn’t give us much time to consider. And you were out cold. Believe me, I didn’t want to do it all behind your back like Zeta did, but....”  
“But you have allowed Ratbat to re-establish the real position of the Institute” the Prime interrupted. “You went as far as to attempt Shadowplay on Bumblebee after he spoke up in the prisoners’defense. May I say THANKFULLY, he has a few million years experience at warfare and his experience as a scout saved him.”  
Prowl stepped back.  
“I... I didn’t know about Bumblebee.”  
And that was exactly what bothered the Prime most.  
“He reported it as a Decepticon attack.” Prime scrutinized him. “You allowed Ratbat to seize control of a monster that endangers all of us now.”  
“It’s not just about us, Prime! Not anymore. The DJD has somehow found out where we’re keeping Ratbat here, and we have all become their targets. Have you seen that blast mark on my office? That was the warning. May this be my last report to you as your second, but I have to inform you that Megatron’s loyalists have just picked up the fight where it was left. They have all available Decepticons on their side. They have freed Overlord, we can’t yet tell how.... if they will start freeing the ‘Cons here on Cybertron, we are doomed.”  
The normally composed mech’s voice broke. As he looked into Optimus Prime’s blue optics, he could see the sadness and the strength, the disappointment and the doughtiness.   
“You have been trusted with the most horrific weapon the Autobots ever possessed, and you handed the monster’s leash to Ratbat.” The Prime’s resonant voice echoed in the room. “I told you, decades ago, that I won’t interfere with Decepticon infights. If Megatron’s Division is what will save us from Ratbat’s grip, so be it.”  
“Without him we wouldn’t have won the war” Prowl silently pointed out.  
“We did not.” Optimus leant closer to the Praxian. “Ratbat did. You have made your deal when I was mostly offline, and you can tell him that I still am” he replied, and turned away from the officer.  
“The DJD is after me, now, with all five of its members.” Was that a shiver running through the usually calm Prowl?   
Optimus turned his back, lost in his thoughts. His second-in-command’s betrayal didn’t leave him with too many options about Prowl’s carrier. But losing him to the vengeanceful Justice Division? After all those vorns of service? The DJD was known to eviscerate their victims alive, then continue torturing them some other creative ways. On the other servo, Optimus remembered the white-out he had this morning. And, as it just turned out, his altruism didn’t do much good to the Autobot cause on the long run.  
“Soundwave is the highest ranking Decepticon right now. See if you can convince him to help you out. If you decide to let him live after the sparklet is born, I will not object.”  
“Optimus, do you realize that he would backstab us on the first occasion?”  
“One backstabber more or less, how much do you think that matters now? Get out of here.”  
Prowl hesitated.  
“Get out. Now.”  
\-------------------  
Ratbat watched from the relative safety of the tower as the unmistakable red X-shaped visor disappeared in the cellar of an old oil bar. If his information was correct, that had to be the entrance of a corridor that lead to the lowest stories of the prison building. Clearly, the DJD was about to let the Decepticon combiner teams out of their cells to run amok. He didn’t object to that – if there are guys like Abominus on the loose, he would only have to play the Decepticons against each other and against the Autobots. In the end, he would be victorious. But for the immediate future, he urgently had to leave the planet. He couldn’t trust the Autobots with his own protection, not when there were too many of them who would hand him over to the DJD.   
He decided he would stowe away on a civilian shuttle and hitch a hike to Nebulos. One might find precious allies there. A living ship would notice him too soon, so he took off for the nearest space station.   
The lightning from under him struck the tiny flightframe without any warning signs. He fell from the sky, paralyzed until his systems would reboot. What the slag had just happened? He instinctively knew he had to hide. His plan was so perfect, but he had to make it to the spaceport. As much as it hurt his pride, he started crawling in the rust of a back-alley.  
And just when the first ships were in sight, a sturdy hand picked him up from the ground by one wing.  
“Looks like someone has lost a bat.”


	11. Chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware, character deaths start from this point.

After the first shock of the unexpected blast-mark warning, the Autobot crowd scattered. Some ‘Bots made panicky radio-calls, others just took photos and shared them with their absent friends. Many were simply caught in the traffic jam caused by the onlookers. But after all, it was just a blast-mark, just like the countless others left on the still-standing structures of a battle-worn planet. Some of the collared Decepticons considered it an announcement for an oncoming riot, and stared up at it with fragile hope. A busybody Autobot gestalt-member later climbed up to see if there was anything in the hole, and he seemed to be rather disappointed when he found nothing in the molten metal. It was just a blast, and nothing more.  
Far away in the background, Scrapper, Bonecrusher and Mixmaster were working on the reconstruction of a bridge under Grapple’s command. They’ve been working segment by segment, and Vos didn’t fail to comment on Mixmaster not wearing the collar.  
“He was not captured and nor did he surrender to the Autobots” Tarn explained. “He is staying with them because the gestalt bond compels him to be with his team.”  
And Grapple seemed to have accepted this deal: the additional Constructicon was working with them, but not as a prisoner. Just one more useful pair of hands at the construction. One could also notice that the Autobot behaved more like an inspired architect rather than a slave driver, arguably taking his share of the hard work of rebuilding their war-torn world. An outsider couldn’t see too much difference between him and the ‘Cons under his command: all four were dedicated builders, and every member of the DJD could easily relate to their devotion. Only, their own calling meant that they rescue the carrying Soundwave, and of course, Megatron if he is truly alive. Tarn and Vos exchanged nods, then followed the X-faced Tesarus down the corridor. Helex and Kaon easily caught up with them.  
As the last dozens of the free Autobots and their reluctant Decepticons were leaving the scene of the unseen shot, they could feel tremor below their wheels. A blue tank that was never meant to go unnoticed had rolled through and under the debris of million-years’ warfare.   
Overlord had just rolled away, just a few metrics under them.   
“Kaon, tell me where he is going.”  
“It’s hard to do when half of him is circling three hundred hics above our heads.” The tracker of the torture specialist team wasn’t amazed, neither amused. “I think he just teleported. That way! To the fuel hub. Not that it would make sense for him to teleport to a fuel distribution center when he has a self-regenerating dark matter fission cell” he added with a confused expression.  
“And if he wanted to blow that hub up, he would do it from the air” Helex continued his line of thought.   
Vos suggested that they take the same shortcut Overlord took, since he wasn’t supposed to have teleport abilities.  
“He must have been using the trans-warp platform. We’d better hurry up” the purple-masked mech decided. And he transformed, of course. “This way!”  
As if on Tarn’s cue, the fuel hub went off. The explosion was so bright that it reminded of a sunset, its shockwave ruptured the freshly rebuilt sections of the Interstate Bridge. Tarn transformed back to robot mode to see what was thwarting them again.   
“Wrong address, Overlord” Tesarus murmured. “By the way, Vos. Would you please stop making holes in the senator’s ears? I’m getting tired of holding the slagpiece for you.”  
“Give him to Helex, we don’t have time for him right now” Tarn agreed. Ratbat gave a miserable, pained chirp, but Vos was the only one who paid any attention.  
\-------------  
::Frenzy to Prowl. Frenzy to Prowl, repeat. Alert effin’ seriously wants to know what just happened at the Bayen Fuel Station.::  
::And guess what?:: Rumble interrupted. ::He is not the only one! We have just surveyed the facility’s security network yesterday and I dare tell you it was set perfectly. Noone could have penetrated it without us knowing.::  
Frenzy looked back above his shoulder.  
“Alert’s hysterical with a good reason” he admitted. “But Ravage would have bit him on the wheels just to make him shut up.”  
“I’m glad we placed those non-tamper triggers” Rumble said, also glimpsing at their Autobot superior. “He is absolutely overdoing his job, but I have to give it to him: he has good ideas sometimes.”  
“Do you think one of those went off? My bet was on Two-Halves-Lord. He isn’t flying around casually because he enjoys the panorama.”  
“Yuck! I wouldn’t have survived having to consume Overlorded fuel.”  
And at this point, the tiny little Decepticons didn’t even know that they have seen the last dose of Gideon’s Glue get wasted.  
\-----------  
The blue tank retreated over the pile of torn fuel cables and demorphed pieces of metal that used to be two Wreckers guarding the facility on the surface. The explosion didn’t hurt him nearly as much as it smelted the busybody guards, but it still registered as pain. Besides, he was angry with himself. He was not careful enough to go unnoticed, as he had originally planned. He had hoped this distraction would come to play in about three joors – when the first ignorant Autobots would have started to show clinical signs of internal mycopropelene poisoning – now he had to make a new plan and get to the lower level of Iacon’s outskirts rather quickly.   
It was convenient that he had access to the transwarp platform here. The Autobots had once built out a magnificient network for their Institute, and if one knew the labyrinth of corridors, platforms and deadly traps scattered around, one could easily slip from one city to another. The problem was with the transwarp waves echoing in the vast labyrinth. If anyone else were to use the same old teleport platforms.... but really, who would use them, and why?  
\--------------  
Elsewhere, five deadly mechs were sneaking in the dark tunnels below the capital: four Decepticons and an Autobot. Their movements went undetected, their current location was known only to a little beast that had once shared a spark-bond with Soundwave. The miserable purple batbot was still sending desperate apologies over the ruins of the quantum-bond he broke. His carrier, however, didn’t even acknowledge his pleas for forgiveness or help. With their bond broken, Ratbat couldn’t offer his connections or his insight, he couldn’t remind Soundwave of the many vorns they have spent together. He couldn’t make his former carrier feel the pain of clipped audiosensors and broken wings, he couldn’t transmit the damage reports of his abraded talons, he couldn’t make Soundwave feel the unbearable heat of Helex’s smelting-dome. He pressed his pointed nose to the transparent window of the large DJD member’s chest, flapping his shattered wings in vain hopes to get out of this walking smelter alive. Nobody seemed to mind him at all. These five angry mechanisms were on their way to the prison area, and woe to those who dare stand in their ways. The four Decepticons knew that those Autobots of the Institute planned to take their leader’s offspring, and they took offense of that intention. The Autobot among their lines was offended on Optimus Prime’s behalf.  
Kaon patted his sparkeater on the back, and gave the leash to Helex.  
“This must have been a nullray shield once” he said. “Though it seems to have been offlined about a thousand vorns ago.”  
“Then we must be close by” Tarn replied. “The Institute paid attention to be mobile without the danger of being tracked. The nullray shield, when it’s in use, disables the transwarp positioning device. If an unauthorized mech is detected tampering it, the nullray would disable him, and the whole device doesn’t come back to life until the nullray is back in standby mode.”  
A dimly lit red X gave a doubtful and curious look in the dark as Tesarus looked at his superior in disbelief. But then, Tarn was their leader, so maybe he was supposed to know such things.   
“Which takes about a breem” Helex commented. “Not very handy when someone’s being chased.”  
“That’s how they avoided getting uncovered since Nova Prime’s time. Kaon, is there a way we could power up the platform?”  
The tank-moded leader rammed into a wall that unexpectedly gave, bent, and the whole piece of metal fell into the spacious cavern behind it. The lights of their optics provided nothing against the pitch black. Vos lamented that he couldn’t even see the walls around them.  
“A platform like this could transfer dozens of mechs of the regular size” Tarn guessed after taking in the sight.  
A lightning bolted through the vast room as Kaon attempted to activate the transwarp systems. The navigation and positioning sensors were disfunctional or missing, but the generator itself came to life with a howl-like sound.   
Suddenly, it caught the echo of another platform, and acted accordingly.  
\-------------  
Audio files from bugs all over Cybertron were being sent to a small room, and they were added to the informatic network in real time. One such recording had been taken through the hacked communicube of a well-known but never precisely remembered psychiatrist.  
“No need to be ashamed of a fear like yours” one of the voices said in a friendly and reassuring manner.  
“I am not afraid!” another voice stated.  
“Are you not? You have already lost your hands and those were your working tool. Your anger over the loss has been pushing you forward ever since, or so you say. Now, if you would accept Prowl’s apology, you would risk your anger to be sated – and you don’t know what would be left of you without it. 2:0 for the Institute, right? That’s what you are afraid of.”  
According to the metadata coming through, this dialogue had been aired from upper Protihex – mere twenty hics away from Iacon’s lower parts.   
“Shut up already. Forgiveness is not my weapon of choice.”  
\-----------  
The darkness of the long-abandoned corridors was suddenly filled with radio signals that the blue tank detected. He compared his position with the map he got from Trepan, and concluded that he was approaching one of the most isolated corridors. It was excavated in a thick layer of cyberium, with naturally occuring electrum ore embedded in the rock around it. It was one of the very few chambers from where not even energy signatures would leave to the surface. Among those few hidy-holes, this was the only one close to Iacon. He had a hard time navigating in the area, maybe he would have had even if his upper, jet part hadn’t been circling in the higher levels of the atmosphere. Normally, having his sensors in the black jet was an advantage – this time, it was a weakness. He was driving half-blind.  
The big tank rolled over a pile of debris, and crushed a wall that he supposed to be thicker than it actually was. There he realized the place must have been repurposed after Trepan’s capture, since what he expected to be a massive storage for explosives and other weapons, turned out to be a resting room full of femmebots who were wearing hardly more than thin elastech and palm-sized pieces of armor. Panic and screaming immediately ensued.  
At times like this, Overlord deeply regretted that his lower half couldn’t transform in his jet half’s absence. He couldn’t even hear their horrified scream – it would have been music to his audials, but alas, said audials were also in the upper half of the phase-sixer’s body, currently flying high out of hearing range.  
“Hello, ladies.”   
The female Autobots shouted and fled. Some were shooting at him, which Overlord considered to be sexy. If only he didn’t have other things to do....   
He watched the femmes transform and roll away in their various (and oh, so attractive!) alt modes. Perhaps Sixshot was right when he called eons-long destruction a dull job? Once he’s done here and reunited with his flying half, he will need to get one of those femmes. Perhaps that pink one.   
The tank rolled in the direction where none of the females even considered running. That must have been a dead end, and if so, it might have been the place he was looking for.   
The tunnel collapsed behind him. Did someone think they could trap him down here? The thought made him laugh. But then, there was shooting, and he identified the aftershock of a banger gun. It was one of the very few things that could actually hurt a superheavy mech like him. Then, an electric bolt could be seen behind the debris, slashing through a large room, causing unison cries. Someone activated a spark extractor, which he only registered because his own, strong spark had mildly reacted to its pull. Otherwise, he was comfortably out of its range. Then the intriguing pull on his spark suddenly ceased, as if the weapon malfunctioned.  
Apart from these distant impressions, Overlord had entirely missed out the deaths of two Autobots and a sparkeater. The turbofox shell was still twitching after the soul-parasite had been torn from it, although the spark-extractor’s user had aimed for the electrically supercharged mech while the walking aggregator was electrocuting Rack’n’Ruin.   
“These mechs are suicidal!” Helex roared in the distance. Unbothered by the slowly-melting Ratbat still flapping his wings inside his body, the large Decepticon went fists and boots against Roadbuster and Sandstorm.  
“These mechs are Wreckers” Tarn replied. “Where’s Kaon?”  
The battle throbbed on behind Overlord’s back, and he didn’t even seem to have heard it. Neither had he any idea of what was going on: he had only guessed that some of them may have been involved in Institute business enough to have known about the transwarp platforms. Something similar stood for the Decepticon Justice Division. Their meeting-up was definitely not a planned event. Overlord would have grinned if he had parts for any face expressions in his tank-part. The transwarp echoes must have pulled both teams together to the platform he landed to. And now there was an all-out fight going on behind him in the underground hall, while he was rolling, unbothered by the fighters, towards his destination. Again, he cross-referenced the input of his few available sensors with Trepan’s map.  
He rolled down the corridor, shooting the walls randomly. The room he was looking for HAD to be close by. He was searching for a disguised door, and his tenacity yielded its reward: a darker, tighter, worse-smelling corridor revealed itself in the shadows. It was running towards the Celestial Towers in its crooked, zigzagged way. Overlord blasted one more wall that stood in his way. His upper part turned towards this spot, shooting away the defense lines as if they were just target practice. He was coming in faster than freefall.  
Behind his back, the battle ceased just as rapidly as it started. It looked as if both parties suddenly remembered they had something more important to do. The battle shifted to a corridor where the Wreckers refused to follow. If the outlander would have looked back, he would have seen Springer standing in the mouth of the corridor, facing his entire team. If he had had audials for the speech, he would have heard the leader reminding the Wreckers not to side with the party that had once mutilated a fellow Wrecker. If he had had his memory banks, he would have remembered that Wrecker’s designation and alt mode, and he would have had access to the data about how this mech had crossed ways with practically everyone memorable in the matter of quartexes.  
What he couldn’t have spotted without his precise sensors, was the Autobot triplechanger swallowing back a much truer statement: Springer ordered his team not to kill any more of the Justice ‘Cons because one of them was said to be an undercover Autobot agent. Recruited by the Institute.   
Meanwhile, Tarn ordered the remaining mechs of the Division to ignore the distraction and keep going despite any Decepticon would normally start firing if they accidentally got teleported to the platform where the Wreckers had (just as unexpectedly) landed. Currently both parties were more motivated in locating the mechs responsible for this mess, and Overlord’s suddenly outbursting laughter translated as Bad News for both of them. This was not their time to grive the fallen.


	12. Chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Battle, hence, character deaths.))

So much about not getting involved in this, Springer thought. He had lost three Wreckers this orn: Twintwist and Topspin were guarding the Bayon Fuel Hub, and Arcee who died in this mess with the Decepticon Justice Division. Arcee.... Arcee was special, for him and for the rest of the Wreckers, and not only because she was the only female among their lines. She was a deadly ally, she shouldn’t have died in such pointless way. Whose idea was to repower a transwarp platform? Who built the Wrecker assembly hole in the still-functioning platform, by the way?   
Now they would have to get out of here, and storm after the most dangerous target. Until Whirl formally accepted the apology, he would be just as willing to let the DJD ran amok in the Institute territory, especially since he had a larger enemy to handle. But what were these five doing down here anyway? They couldn’t have simply came for Ratbat, as Springer had a clear visual of the tiny worm melting inside that oven-shaped Decepticon. What did they want, then? He looked at Kup, hoping for an advice. Wrecking and ruling was the easy part. If only he could have contacted Optimus!   
“Where to, boss?” another mech asked behind his back.  
“After Overlord!”  
In the other side of the tunnel, Tarn transformed to take one last look at the black mess of metal that used to be Vos. The recently rejuvenilated old Wrecker, Kup had blasted the gunformer in the heat of the battle, and they didn’t even have time to grieve him.   
“’Cybertronian by birth. Decepticon by choice.’” The masked mechanism turned back to the direction of the prison level while transforming, and rolled after Tesarus. There was no time for more.   
::I will catch up with you later:: Kaon messaged them. ::There’s something here I need to check out. Not more than an echo, but I need to make sure.::   
Tarn transformed to look back at the tracker, and noticed the sparkeater’s empty shell close to the wounded red Decepticon. He guessed that Kaon just wanted a moment in contemplation. But even then, this wasn’t the right time to leave anyone alone in the maze of the Institute.  
“Helex, stay with him. We can’t afford any more losses.”  
The walking smelter acknowledged his task. Besides, Kaon’s pet was somewhat his pet too. In fact, he preferred the chewy beast over this snobbish, overfueled Vos.   
To his surprise, however, Kaon moved in Overlord’s direction, away from the white shell. Pure determination was written on his face.

\--------  
“What’s up, Scrapper?”  
The bright green and intense purple payloader gave Grapple an angry look – and that wasn’t only because they were standing on the yet again ruined Interstate bridge. The Constructicons’ joorly two-breems stand-down had just started, a well deserved rest in the hard work. Their Autobots were not supposed to disturb them at this time – this little privacy the gestalt members still maintained and held on to. It wasn’t like their keepers couldn’t have startled or harassed them. Technically, they had the means to do so – only, nor Grapple nor Hoist would have ever done that. Or at least, they haven’t before.   
Grapple must have realized his mistake by himself, too, because he quickly unsubspaced a gleaming cube of midgrade and handed it to his co-worker. Now that was better. Scrapper accepted the fuel, and consumed its content while keeping an optic on the light brown Autobot.   
“I was thinking I could call Hoist over here, and after our break-time we could consult about the Bayen Fuel Station. Since we will be the ones to deal with its remains anyway, we might as well start soonish. And we can come back to this accursed bridge after we’re done with everything else.” If there’s still something left of it by the time we return, Grapple added silently.  
Scrapper handed back the empty cube, and scratched what he could reach of his neck under the security collar. He was well aware that they would be ordered to the explosion site soon anyway, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate Grapple’s modest approach.  
“Fine” he said flatly. He looked up from the almost-yellow Autobot to Mixmaster, then at the other side of the bridge where Hook, Scavenger and Long Haul just put down their tools. The thin girders between the two workplaces were just strong enough to let one mech pass at a time – nor Hook nor Grapple agreed to make a stronger makeshift connection, when the task was to have the bridge (eventually) properly connected. Hoist crossed it first, closely followed the other three Constructicons.  
“Hey pal, have you saved any energon for me too, or are you giving...?” Hoist never got to finish the sentence. As soon as both Autobots were in his arm’s reach, Mixmaster grabbed him with one hand and Grapple with the other. He clashed the two Autobots’ heads together with such force that both their head modules shattered to pieces, and their deformed shoulder panels would screech before they were gracelessly dropped to the ground level, half a hic below the bridge. An alarm went off nearby, and an automatic call was sent out on the medics’ radio frequency. Another automatized reaction was the numbing static the five captive Constructicons’ collars, but this was delayed several astroseconds – both Hoist and Grapple used manual settings on their workers’ collars to avoid their ‘Cons from getting accidentally punished for something they didn’t do. Now both Autobots were lying in critical condition under the almost-done Interstate bridge, and above their wrecks, Mixmaster was quickly tearing off the collars of his gestalt-mates, one after the other.   
Scrapper’s collar fell on Grapple’s wreck just as his brain module threw its lasts sparks.   
“This is what happens to naive idiots” the bright green mech stated before turning back to the other free Constructicons. “Now, let us form Devastator!”  
\--------------------  
Kup cursed loudly at the half of a phasesixer, which left Overlord just as unbothered as his standdown-code had a few astroseconds before. His audiosensors were still threehundred hics above the surface, although the jet half was descending rapidly. The black machine was firing with deadly precision at the Autobot capital’s defense system, taking out one rocket launcher after the other. He was careful not to miss out the main radio tower through which most of the collared prisoners would have been paralyzed. He didn’t even need to tell the captive Decepticons what to do: they had seen their opportunity to turn against their keepers and Devastator was already showing a good example.   
And, best of all, the Autobots were clearly without a leader. All their nonexistent military structure shattered in the moment Prowl had resigned without an explanation. Optimus Prime was nowhere to be seen. Jazz, Ironhide and a few others were trying to maintain some kind of organized chaos on the surface, showing some vain attempts of a counter-attack.   
The jet blasted his way through the ground, to the well-isolated hiding place, and reunited with his lower half. Now that he could transform to robot mode, he picked up a silver and black gun from the berth (the only piece of furniture in the austere room) and laughed hysterically.   
Roadbuster fired the banger gun without hesitation.  
Helex threw himself in the way of the shot, defending Overlord at the cost of his life. His large, shattered torso’s splinters were thrown backwards by the force of the direct hit, the molten metal of his smelter-cavity splashed against the gleeful phase-sixer’s frame.   
Only then did the remaining Wreckers realize why he took the shot for the grinning destroyer. The new-found gun with which Overlord was shooting them one after the other (though with a terrible aim) was no less than the Autobots’ archnemesis. Apparently, he hadn’t been executed effectively enough.  
He was powered with rage, filled with hatred. He loathed the Autobots with passion. Perhaps he had also despised Overlord who was now holding him as a weapon, but for now, he had to bear with the big brute. Much to his disdain, they were on the same side for now.  
::Kaon:: he radioed on his very limited range.   
::My lord?::  
::Tell Tarn not to divert from Soundwave. I can handle this idiot, but he has to take care of my future::  
Kaon transmitted the message. He barely picked up the acknowledgement feedback from the Division’s leader before Kup spit his cy-gar into his aggregator. The device sent Kaon’s powerful electric weaponry into a vicious short-out, and he practically electrocuted himself until he wasn’t more than a sparking red pile of unrecognizable metallic pieces with the two iconic coils on the top. His last sizzles were finally silenced by Overlord’s mercy kill.   
Without the soothing presence of the cy-gar, Kup was aware he would loose it in a matter of astroseconds. He only had time to tell his fellow Wreckers to run. And when he looked into Overlord’s brilliant red optics, he was ready to reap the whirlwind. Despite his building, insane rage taking over his processor, he found he was somewhat at peace with his fate: he knew he would go down like a Wrecker.


	13. Chapter twelve

„First Aid!”  
„Up here! I’m coming!”  
Ratchet cursed at the rising Decepticon army in the city. Why did everything have to go wrong the moment he was not watching? He had work to do! He could not just go up to the surface and look after patients when he was this close to finishing his job on Shockwave. And yet, here he was, storming out to the piers of the Interstate bridge and getting his student to do the last steps instead of him.   
First Aid rushed down the stairs, just as Ratchet was moving out of the lowest prison area. The bangs of the distant fighting echoed behind their backs, as if surrounding them from all directions.  
„Yes Ratchet?”  
„Listen. The hardware is done, the software has yet to activate. The color nanites I asked for?”  
„I have two flasks” First Aid touched his subspace pullers.  
„Good. It should be enough. Now! I had to construct a block in his mind, or else he would have torn the old pieces down before they would be reinstalled. Passcode is ’Rienzi’. I know you won’t let me down.”  
\----------------  
Chromedome knew this would be his one and only time to get into Soundwave’s mind. If he can handle the third-in-command Decepticon, the mech would be able to call back the DJD and save Prowl’s and all his subordinates’ lives. He only needed to be convinced to cooperate with a select few Autobots, and the war would, finally, be truly over. Too bad he couldn’t do this earlier.  
Soundwave’s was a truly complicated mind. Challenging. The mech was used to having not one, but six other entities connected to him constantly, and he had great experience in keeping his own thoughts to himself. Chromedome felt the unwilling mind between his fingers heating up to working temperature, scenes flashing through both of them. The Decepticon knew who was hacking him, and his counter-attack was powerful, precise, and mind-blowing.  
It wasn’t only Soundwave’s experience with data management and manipulation. He was a telepath in possession of information about Chromedome, information the mech didn’t even know about himself. Chromedome had to concentrate on the job literally at hand, or he would have been reduced to a sobbing, over-emotional pile of loose wires, washed away by the more experienced mechanism.   
Their battle went into a stalemate. Chromedome was aware that time was working against him.  
But it was also working against Soundwave, too.  
\------------

Meanwhile, in the secluded recovery room of the Iacon Medibay, Optimus was throwing his weight against the security doors, but to no avail. Apparently, he had been locked in with a command-level personal code, and no matter how much he would have wanted to storm down the thankless Decepticons and protect Cybertron’s more peaceful population, he could not get out of the spacious room.  
„ELITA!”  
„I’m sorry, Orion. This is something I had to do” his sparkmate whispered on the other side of the door. „I can’t let you get yourself killed this time. We need you. We need you alive, Prime.”  
\-----------   
“Don’t let yourself be distracted” Tarn hissed as he rolled up the ramp to the upper prison area. “Drift is just a lister, one of the many. If we divert from Soundwave, we fail.”  
Tesarus didn’t reply. They have covered about two hics in as many breems, hindered by walls, traps, artillery and Autobots.   
“It looks as if the Autobots have assembled a squadron of defectors just to slow us down” Tarn muttered while shooting himself through the obstackles. He didn’t even spare a blink at Drift’s heavily leaking chest wound, and he resisted the temptation of a second shot. He was, too, inclined to just transform and properly take up the fight, but Buzzsaw urged him on in panic. What will happen to the Decepticon Cause if the two of them fail? Vos and the sparkeater had been killed in front of his optics. Last time he had seen Kaon and Helex, they were following Overlord’s tracks and anyone in a phase-sixer’s proximity could easily end up as collateral damage. He was under no illusion about their survival, either.   
He gathered his focus. The sparkling. Megatron, Soundwave and Prime’s sparkling, to whom the Decepticon leader referred to as his future. As Tesarus transformed to tear down a wall of tironium, they caught sight of the Dinobots taking on Devastator in the distance. Elsewhere, Overlord finished off the no-kill marked Whirl, earning himself a higher position on the DJD’s list. Or, as Tarn bitterly corrected himself, he would have earned that honorable rank if Kaon would have been still around.  
Buzzsaw repeatedly urged them to speed up.   
\-------------  
Red Alert was nobot’s fool. He had disabled the two Decepticon cassettes as soon as Overlord had sparked the rebellion, and he made sure they won’t escape or start a second front-line in his office. Not even Frenzy could wreak havoc with him around. Not even Rumble could use his piledrivers to break Soundwave out of the well-monitored room.   
Wait a nanosec! Well-monitored? Then why was Soundwave sitting in the deadground of the cameras? And whose shadow did he see there? There was a blurred mess, as if someone had hacked the security lines to hide in plain sight. He checked and double-checked, but the tiny twin troublecons were out cold below his workdesk. He made sure they wouldn’t escape if, by any unforeseeable event, the generic collar control was broken. Something just had to go wrong here. They had so many Decepticons, so close.   
And not only them, now there was Overlord storming out from the crater too. And, apparently, all those mechs who were informed of his offlining code, had already been offlined. He should have known not to trust Decepticon science when it came to keeping Decepticons under control. Now the psychic destroyer was not only marching towards Iacon Central, he (this had to be a nightmare!) was holding a pistol-mode Megatron in his hand.   
He pinged Blaster on one of the few frequencies that still remained in the chaos. The orange-red carrier replied that he was a few moments from resetting the secondary communication system, and added that, according to the data Steeljaw had gathered, the standdown signal did nothing to the phase-sixer this time. He had either developed some type of immunity, Blaster guessed, or maybe the explosions around him were too loud.   
::And what about the jamming of the signal from Soundwave’s cell?:: Red Alert demanded. ::How could the freaky Cassettes get to it behind your back?::  
::I see it:: Blaster replied after a little while. ::Eject says that the jamming signal is coming from the commentator box::  
::Whom where?!::  
Blaster aired an irritated sigh.  
::From our own the upper levels. It is unmistakably an Autobot signal.::  
\------------  
Optimus suddenly crouched in the room where he was trapped. He instinctively held his two hands closer to his chest, almost transforming partially. His head was still up, but his legs turned into the lower half of the semitruck without his waist making the essential half-spin first. It was a burning, splitting sensation, somewhat tempered by the Matrix. The artefact was glowing brightly in his chest.  
Then, as if it hadn’t been there, the pain vanished, leaving only a vague memory behind. The Prime straightened up, and stumbled back to the berth. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be a white-out this time.   
He barely made it to the berth when the stabbing pain repeated. Again, he crumbled around his own spark, trying to be brave in the face of this unidentified torture. When the pain stopped, he tried to gather his thoughts, desperate to find out what was going on.   
The solution only revealed itself to him after the third seizure. Had he just advised Prowl to convince Soundwave to help him? He should have been wiser. He should have been aware of this possibility. He should have known what the Institute’s way of ‘convincing’ was.  
He steadied himself for the next attack, which came sooner than he had expected. He tried to contact Prowl, but all he got back was static.  
\-------------  
Overlord had only noticed that his newfound gun started malfunctioning all of a sudden. Of course he would not throw away a rarity like this one, but he decided to continue firing with his own, built-in weapons instead. That’s what they were for, anyway.   
Megatron, by contrast, immediately noticed what was going on. Back in his early years when becoming a medic was not nearly as unlikely an option for him as becoming the ruler of the known galaxy and being the destroyer of worlds, he had read about spark medicine. Though most of that knowledge was lost to time and fighting, he could still tell a pre-parting stab when he felt one in his own spark.   
Soundwave’s time has come.


	14. Chapter thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So how many of you looked up 'Rienzi'?)

Suddenly it went too easily.   
Chromedome didn’t like whatever was too easy. It screamed trap to him.   
He was in Soundwave’s memory files, he could read each and every slice of data he reached out for. His time as a young carrier. His first bonding to a Cassetticon. Ravage had, in the memory, suddenly turned around and attacked him, as if the hacker had been present at the time. But apart from this single perturbation, everything seemed smooth. As if there was no spark, only the distant echoes of it, connected to the brain module he was working on.   
With whatever caution he could apply in this situation, he proceeded. He scrolled through Soundwave’s past as an assistant, all the way back to his forced bonding to a senator. That was a horrible experience, even if Chromedome was only an unnoticable bystander in Soundwave’s mind, not the one enduring the abhorrent binding. As a carrier, Soundwave had already known how a consensual bonding was done, and this was none of it. Ratbat had brutally claimed his spark, and being a lower class mechanism, he had no right to defend himself. And this was the type of bond that could only be broken by the mech who had initiated it.  
Nicer memories followed. Megatron showing him a way out. Meeting Frenzy and Rumble, who could very well manage their lives on their own, and yet they accepted his offer to form a cohort with him. His pride in the small ones, and victories of his own. The cohort becoming Decepticons and fighting their way out of Kaon, to the rest of Cybertron, to the rest of the universe. And maybe beyond.  
Chromedome instinctively knew that something went wrong, but before he would have checked the hacked communication officer’s internal diagnostic reports, he unexpectedly lost his connection to him.  
He looked around, confused, not seeing more than a bright blur with red lights and the distant sound of something spinning. Before his sensors came back to him, Chromedome already knew he was physically removed from the other’s brain. As he regained his center, he looked down at his legs which he still couldn’t really feel.  
A bright red cross stared back at him from above a huge, round, spinning grinder. Then, he started feeling his legs. He screamed out loud, for the last time in his life.  
\---------------  
Elita-One was sitting with her back to the locked door, whispering soothing glyphs to her sparkmate on the other side.   
“Try to focus on the connection the two of you share” she advised.  
“You mean, Soundwave and I?”  
“Yes. I tasked Chromia and Moonracer with finding Prowl, don’t pay attention to that detail. Keep your focus off anything with a negative content, it is essential that you think positively right now. You need to support Soundwave through your bond.”  
Optimus, at the inner side of the door, looked down at his brightly shining chest.  
“Am I doing that?”   
“Yes, you are. That is what spark bonds are for, to balance out when one party is down for whatever reason.” She silenced, as she felt Optimus experiencing yet another stab in his chest.  
“But I am not bound to Soundwave. In a way, I am, but only through the Matrix” the Prime replied after the seizure.   
“You should know better than to underestimate the Matrix” Elita whispered back. “Rest assured, you are giving great support to Soundwave right now. So is Megatron, I suppose.”  
It felt weird. Optimus Prime looked up at the white ceiling, preparing for the next round.   
“Do you feel this too?” he suddenly asked. “If spark bonds mean sharing the load and balancing out, then...”  
“Yes I do” Elita admitted. She rested a palm against the door where she supposed Optimus’s shoulder to be on the other side. “But there’s no need for you to be sorry, sweetspark. It is a wonderful feeling, to be able to give strength and provide support. I don’t want to imagine where you would be without me, Orion.”  
He would have joined the Matrix without a doubt, the Prime soundlessly admitted to himself.  
“You just told me not to think about negative things” he scolded his beloved silently. “Ariel? Thank you so much for being there for me.”  
Elita-One rested her cheek against the locked door.  
“I thank you, Optimus.”  
\---------------------------  
When Decepticons invented gestalt technology, one of the first lessons for them was never to have a medic as a member. One mech could not be in two places at the same time, and a combiner warrior was needed exactly when a healer was: in the middle of a raging battle.  
First Aid suppressed the pull of his Protectobot call, and concentrated on the offline frame on the workbench in front of him. Defensor would have to manage without him. He would be weaker than the other combiners, but he would still be formidable. If he just left his job and went back to the surface, Ratchet would have had to come back. Someone had to be down here, and First Aid knew that his tutor was better at battlefield repairs than he was. Ratchet was faster, smarter, more effective, and he was very hard to distract. In his place, First Aid would have been dragged into Defensor in no time. Here in the dungeon, he found it easier to resist that pull.  
Two optics flashed slightly and in asynchrony on an otherwise grey frame. First Aid stared at the empty cans of color nanites: there were at least five of them, stowed away in a dark corner. This amount of paint would have sufficed for a metrotitan. Yet Shockwave’s frame was unremarkably colorless, after Ratchet had meticulously scoured the layers of purple from his surface. The young medic had the impression of looking at a naked corpse, but he could also register the strong pulse of an active, spinning spark.  
He opened one can of nanites, and slid the tube of an airbrush into the small hole. Ratchet had instructed him to spray the left side of the torso and all the transformation seams. He blinked at the left hand, which seemed to have been completely reworked by the elder medic. Unlike the rest of the body, the wrist displayed some slight coloring, although First Aid could not say if it was yellowish, or purple. Maybe he was only seeing complementer shadows. It could happen in such a dimly lit place.  
The paint he applied to the grey metal was adsorbed in front of his optics, much like the way dry soil drinks up water in a much-needed rain. Something told him to save the other can for later.  
Only his active medical programming prevented his servo from shaking as he reattached a loose set of wires, but his ventilation was still spinning beyond his control. He got to complete Ratchet’s work. He was going to be the first to see the results.  
\-----------  
“They are bringing an unsparked body” Tesarus suddenly pointed out. He was standing guard after he had put Chromedome literally behind him. Some of the smaller flakes still lingered around, scattered on the furniture and some slices of rubber wheels attached themselves to the window’s glass.   
It was enough for Buzzsaw to cast a quick glance, and he confirmed this blue and silver frame to be the one he had seen through in the making.  
“Do whatever it takes to get it” Tarn answered both of them as he knelt down next to the crouching communication officer. He rested a dark purple hand on the dark blue carrier’s chest. “Hold on, Soundwave. I came on Megatron’s command. You are safe with us.”  
At the mention of his beloved leader’s name, Soundwave’s red optics lit dimly up. Then his still unmasked face displayed purest terror as he recognized the leader of the top-class torture specialists.  
“I...” He struggled with the words, not particularly in the way hacking victims normally do. “I... know.... you... are...” He fell back into unconsciousness. The melodies of familiar old music kept him from completely drifting away.  
“I’m not letting you go” Tarn told him, although he couldn’t really believe his own words. He desperately tried to let his voice fall in tone with Soundwave’s sparkbeat, but all he could catch was weak cacophony. He detected a familiar rhythm once in a while, but his overall impression was still a mess that the recent hack had mixed up even more.  
“Stay with me, Soundwave. In Megatron’s name, I order you not to go down. You are the most important mech at this point.”  
Soundwave’s spark flashed again, forcelessly and beyond anyone’s control. Tesarus, who had seen his boss work more than enough times, was aware how bad it actually was. He was glad he didn’t have to look. He went back to the shootmark-decored corridor, and looked down at the approaching Autobots. With elegance defying his hulk, the large grinder-mech jumped over a railing and landed in the middle of the convoy. While everyone around him was still confused, he grabbed an important-looking weak mech holding a briefcase, and in a moment his masticators were cutting into the mostly white and blue Autobot’s black wrist. Then his blades all stopped with the victim’s damaged arm stuck between them. The suitcase was still attached to the severed part, but it was likely that it would be grinded down along with the arm in the next moment if he chose so.  
He completely ignored the mech’s surprised scream. He also ignored the barrels trained at him.  
“I think this is what you call a hostage situation” he said while his large arms pinned down Brainstorm’s other hand and muted his vocalizer. Some wheeping still came through when the ununtrium-coated masticators moved a micron or two.  
Of what he managed to pick up from the panicked whispers around him, this briefcased scientist was the one supposed to move the newborn spark to the newbuilt body. Good catch.  
“So what do you want?” a mech with a remarkably large insignia asked.   
Tesarus pointed at the to-be frame of the sparkling without releasing the scientist. “Urgently” he added.  
“And if you get that, will you leave us alone?”   
A large spire that had miraculously survived the million-years warfare, had just succumbed to gravity as Overlord threw a one-armed gestalt into it. The sound of the collapsing tower suppressed the Decepticon’s reply, whatever that might have been.  
\--------  
Steeljaw was watching the events going on in Soundwave’s room, but he couldn’t interfere from where he was. After Red Alert had noticed the alteration of the signal, he volunteered to check its source out. Blaster released him in spite of his bad feeling about the matter – the golden lion-cassette was his co-worker and not his property, afterall. He could only ask for Steeljaw to be very careful, which the small beast had promised to be.  
So, Steeljaw was carefully sneaking between the vast communication cables from Red Alert’s office to Prowl’s now abandoned place, wondering what exactly had made the second-in-command to resign. Was it guilt? Was it the weight of responsibility, or did he feel he wasn’t good enough for his job anymore? Those would have been uncharacteristic for the accountable, calm mech. Steeljaw could only imagine that, for whatever reason, Prowl’s staying in office would have endangered the Autobots around him. That was the only option Steeljaw could come up with.  
If so, then Prowl must have somehow been blackmailed. Optimus Prime’s silence about this issue meant that the blackmail was not an empty threat, and Prowl would have been unwise to let it come up. The lionformer still had the impression that eventually he and his cohort would be tasked with cleaning up some of the mess, anyway.  
He had already detected a well-disguised communication signature that was coming from behind Prowl’s work table and it received replies from under the waste disposal tubes – it must have been an emergency infoline. Steeljaw, whose pride had been his many sensors and especially the olfactory ones, would have never followed the other dataflow to its source there. Rather, he informed Blaster of his findings and let him track down the former second-in-command on the other side of the waste disposal tube without any of them actually getting inside. He liked to have a clean cassette deck to return home to.  
After his master pinged back an acknowledgement signal, he went back to examining the jammer that was disrupting the video feed. It looked like Prowl had an own device to fool Red Alert’s observation network, which he left here along with the rest of his tools and equipment. The unorderly way datapads were positioned around it suggested that it was only activated by another Autobot after the second-in-command had resigned. Apart from Prowl’s smell, it was Chromedome whose traces he could pick up. He offed the disruptor, wondering where the mech might have been now.   
As he turned around in the abandoned office, he noted a small scratch at the side of the cables’ cover. He had opened it when he came out, and apparently someone had gone in here when he wasn’t looking. Another cassette, and most likely it was a bird.   
Before following the intruder to the tunnel, Steeljaw cast a quick look at how things stood in Soundwave’s room. In short, it was bad. Soundwave was lying on the berth with the DJD leader holding him, spark casing 87% exposed, but the spark itself trembling like faint candlelight in a Kaminoan thunderstorm. Judging from the way Buzzsaw was looking up at the masked purple newcomer, Tarn was trying to pull some miracle stunt in an attempt to save either the communication officer, or the sparklet.   
Then the door of Soundwave’s room opened, and in the lower left corner appeared a large Decepticon with a built-in grinder in his abdomen, dragging in a reluctant Brainstorm and the frame the science team had built for the offspring. Steeljaw’s attention wandered back to Soundwave and the now 92% exposed inner casing. Its glow would have been too weak for even one spark. Steeljaw could not tell what has happened, but a family tragedy was well on the way.   
Then, remembering the scratch he found on the tunnel entrance, he jumped in and hurried after Laserbeak.


	15. Chapter fourteen

For all he could remember, Shockwave had followed pure logic throughout his entire life. Even his rare flashbacks from before had made sense to him in retrospect, although he very rarely liked what he had seen.   
Darkness surrounded him. No sensors active, no lingering memories clogging his mind. Just pure logic. The Decepticons were defeated, and he was thrown in this prison cell. He had no say in what had happened afterwards.   
He remembered everything Ratchet had done to him: even when he was offline for the most excessive repairs, his sensors had been active and relayed him the information on what he had missed as soon as he came back online. There was some blur in his command cortex, but apart from that, everything, everything was so logical.  
“Rienzi.”  
The block dissolved and Shockwave had access to the memory of the mech who he once was. The only question left: would he accept to be that mech again? No, that was not a question. Pure logic didn’t allow him a choice. He was still in Autobot custody, and would be until his captors deem him fit for civilized life again. Tentatively, he accessed a sample of what had recently been added to his brilliantly logical mind.   
What he had found, was all familiar. One line of code came after another in the only logical way it could, he remembered every bit to be exactly the way it was now. Regardless of an eventual own opinion he might have had, logic dictated that this coding had belonged to him. Fighting back would have been illogical.  
“Rienzi.”  
He could not identify the speaker, but he recognized the tone. It was compassionate, anxious, worried and desperate. He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and he knew it to belong to the mechanism whose voice he had heard. He tried to return something of those feelings, and he was surprised beyond logic at how easily it all came. Yes, he was just as anxious, just as worried, and before he could have decided against it, he lifted up his left hand and patted the other mech where he supposed his shoulder to be.  
His optics onlined. He wasn’t even surprised to find he had two of them again, and as his gaze followed his left arm that rested reassuringly on the medic’s frame, all he felt to be out of place was the uncharacteristic greyness of his frame.   
“You don’t happen to have any spare paint with you, do you?” he whispered. He smiled at the young medic, who hastily offered him an unopened can of color nanites, and an old but still functional airbrush to apply it.   
“Will you manage on your own?” the medic suddenly asked. “We still have a battle going on out there, so I’d be also needed on the surface.”  
“Sure thing” he replied. By the time he sat up on the repair berth, First Aid had already transformed and rolled away.   
A part of him urged him to follow: decoring himself could wait. But then, he still needed some time to come to terms with who he was and who he eventually became, and for that, he preferred solitude anyway.   
It was only logical that he would use that time to regain his old colors.  
\--------------------  
Laserbeak slipped out of the cable tunnel just where Steeljaw had entered it about three breems before. She was in Red Alert’s room, the ‘monitoring central’ of the Autobot capital. She could see the outbound traffic, like, the disabled Stunticons being dragged away on Ultra Magnus’s trailer with at least a dozen heavily armed others standing guard. The Decepticons should have prepared better for the battle, should have planned more in advance, she bitterly thought. With a sad chirp, she switched back to the transmission from Soundwave’s room, although she clearly felt what was happening in there. Her master was dying.   
She watched as Tesarus dragged Brainstorm in, and the Autobot recognized in horror that the metal flakes covering the floor had once been his fellow co-worker. The door locked behind them.  
“The deal is simple” Tarn said without looking at him. “You assist us install the sparkling’s frame, and if he lives to see another orn, so will you.”  
Brainstorm blinked at the faint light emanating from Soundwave’s chest. His chances did not appear to be bright.  
Tarn looked at him, many thoughts running behind his mask. Certainly Decepticons have been named for their tendency to deceive, but for the worst traitors, one had to search among the Autobots’ ranks. He remembered the dialogue he had with Vos just before dawn. That.... that was a long one. And it lead to the two of them blasting the insignia above Prowl’s office.   
“You have my word we will leave. Peacefully” he added. He spoke only on the behalf of the remains of the DJD, however. Holding Overlord’s leash was not included in the offer.   
He turned his attention back to Soundwave.  
\---------------  
::Copied that, Elita::  
Chromia gave a hand signal that triggered a haggard sigh from her company. “She just told us to return to the city. There’s no point in this search anymore.”  
“Did she tell anything about Soundwave?” Moonracer asked.  
“Or the sparklet?” Firestar added anxiously.  
“She didn’t. All she told me is that Optimus’s spark seizures have balanced out and there’s nothing else anyone could do now. We can pray to Primus and join Flare-Up at the backdoor corridors.”  
“We are not going to hide!” Firestar protested. “I’m not willing to go into hiding again!”  
“It’s not about hiding” Chromia calmed her. “But that’s the only place where we have energon storage in the territory. Remember, the Bayen Fuel Hub was blown up.”  
“That’s where the next Decepticon attack might be” Moonracer nodded reluctantly. “I had better be the one guarding it.”  
Chromia sighed. Elita-One said literally the same.  
\---------  
Prowl was rolling towards a secondary platform. Was he running away? Well.... if anybot would have asked him, he might have admitted he was running from himself.   
This day was a disaster. He no longer had to worry about himself, of course, but keeping up the stalemate with the Decepticons had came with hefty loss. Arcee died. And Kup. And Whirl, that idiot, he had to challenge Overlord instead of accepting peace with the rest of the world. Springer will just keep hating him for the rest of his life.  
He remembered the Autobot insignia that was still stamped on him, and idled at the thought that his own face had been constructed in that design. But did that mean anything, at this point? He had betrayed Optimus Prime’s faith. He had abandoned his position, and he had initiated the line of events that lead to Overlord now rampaging uncontrolled in Iacon. He didn’t prevent Chromedome from entering Soundwave’s cell.  
Such an Autobot he was.  
He struggled to find something happy about this day. All he could comfort himself with was that the Decepticon Justice Division was not going to get him after all. They started with five members. Vos – check. Helex – check. Kaon – check. Too bad it had cost him Kup’s life to get rid of the latter. Sympathy didn’t match well with being the lead tactician, and he found it very hard to believe that it was actually worth the sacrifice. He took advantage of his control over the friendly veteran because he was scared to death – not a logical action in the hindsight.  
He took one last turn at the three-ways cross, and transformed. From here, he would have to walk until he would get to the platform that transwarps him directly to the Kimia laboratory.   
He stood up.... and froze.  
He was seeing a ghost, coming towards him from the third corridor. A ghost, because that mech could simply not exist. He looked at those two optics, and he could tell his processor was melting. The ghost grabbed a piece of rubbish with both hands, and threw it towards the escaping Autobot. Prowl clunged to the wall to avoid the hit. For a moment, he thought that the piece crashed harmlessly beside him – but in the next astrosecond, the nullray shield in front of the transwarp platform activated, triggered by the impact. His entire right side went limp immediately. His gun fell from his hand. Great, Prowl cursed himself. Just great! Not only was he trying to get away on one leg and now without any weapon, there was no way to make any use of the platform until the nullray is back to standby mode.   
Which would take about a breem   
He could four or five times be dead by then.  
\-------------  
::Leave Prowl to the girls, just make sure Red Alert is safe:: Blaster radioed to Eject. ::I don’t care what you do to him, but he would be a danger to himself if his processor crashed again::  
::Copied that, boss::  
::Ramhorn?::  
::Deep in the ruins:: the rhino-cassette reported. ::And I can’t leave this area until we have all survivors recovered::  
::At least stay with the Protectobots:: Blaster requested. Ramhorn sent back an acknowledging beep.  
Rewind was tracking Overlord’s movement towards the spaceport. The big ‘Con’s plan appeared to be preventing the grounder Autobots’ escape from the capital, but with just as much chance he was simply showing off his newfound silver and black gun. And perhaps undermining Optimus Prime’s reputation as a reliable being.  
::Maybe we could give that standdown code another try:: the tiny mech suggested. ::Blurr agreed to give me a lift, and if I plug into the air security intranet, I will have access to the loudspeakers there::  
::Sounds like a plan:: Blaster agreed. ::Steeljaw?::  
\-----------  
The Decepticon-masked mech almost touched helms with the mech whose face the Decepticon insignia had been modeled after. He was murmuring softly along with the music he was playing, hoping that the spark 95% exposed between his arms would react to it.   
By now, he understood what he was witnessing. It was not one spark he had to work with, rather, two very confused sparks whose asyncron pulses manifested in an unorderly spinning. If it hadn’t been for the life-threatening drop of Soundwave’s spark activity (how could someone permit a processor-deep personality editing of a carrying mech!?) the two wouldn’t have started to separate for maybe another orn or more. What was going on appeared more like an abortion to him, rather than a delivery. All he could do was coaxing the two sparks to keep spinning, each in its own rhythm, until the new one gained enough strength to carry on without support from the other. Without the talent he normally used for disrupting basic spark functions, this still-united joint spark would have extinguished by now. However, by forcing them to separate, he was also putting them to great danger, as the younger one was not yet mature to split from the old. And he was coaxing this faint thing to eventually function as two sparks when its energy was not even enough for one.   
What helped even less, was how Soundwave seemed to refuse to trust him. Not that he could blame the third-in-command, after what he had been doing for so long. But in this case, he had nothing else on his mind than keeping the sparklet alive at all costs.   
He watched as the still-joined sparks reached out for others that were bound to them. By the increasing cacophony, he could tell every time Megatron’s sparkbeat added to the mixture, and he could also sense the Autobot leader providing his share of support too. There were additional beats too, some he guessed to come from the Cassetticons. He also remembered the fact that Optimus Prime had a sparkmate.  
It wasn’t like he could have done anything with these tertiary donations. They were causing irregularity on a level he could not manipulate anymore, but without them, the two sparks’ own pulse would have been so weak that the carrying mech would have died on the spot.  
That was still the most likely outcome, however. If, by any chance, he would have had an opportunity to interfere even more, he had clear orders to act. He was here to save the sparklet, even if it meant Soundwave’s perishing.  
He slightly increased the volume. Rather that, than losing both.  
\---------------  
“Elita, please!”  
The femmebot leader refused to hear his sparkmate’s begging. If Optimus was well enough to think about leaving the hospital room, he might have been also foolish enough to go after Megatron and Overlord. She knew him just too well.  
“Sweetspark, I can’t. Just because your spark has finally found its balance with Soundwave’s beat, it doesn’t mean we would not be drained during this. That includes me, and it also includes you.”  
Now it was Optimus Prime’s time not to hear what his bonded was saying.  
“Rest assured, the Matrix can handle it. You should see how brightly it is glowing right now, the entire room is basking in its light.”  
“I am not opening the door, Orion.”  
She would have been horrified if she would have seen the look Optimus now cast at the large window of the room.  
\--------------------------  
While the older flightframe was sitting on Soundwave’s shoulder, Laserbeak could only watch through the security feeds. She hoped something would happen to save her carrier, and she sent a reassuring wave of faith along their bond. Tarn apparently knew what he was doing, so in this position, it would have been wiser for Soundwave to cease struggling and allow him to talk the two sparks apart. With every though she sent over, the still-connected lightorbs seemed to flash with a little more strength. Laserbeak chirped encouragingly, and curiously palpated along their connections to see if the other Cassetticons were also doing the same.  
To her surprise, the twins’ reaction felt as if they were recharging. They both were providing strong support, but at the same time they appeared completely unaware of this. It wasn’t exactly like a stasis lock, rather code-induced offlining. Damn Autobots, she hissed. This had to be Blaster’s advice, she was certain. The traitor had given Red Alert codes only a carrier can normally possess. If she had ever considered trusting Soundwave’s orange archnemesis with her cohort-mates, this would have been the time she developed the grudge.   
But there was something odd about Frenzy and Rumble’s connection to Soundwave and to her. It was as if they were sending their strength to their carrier from the same place. She circled the crumpled office, and soon found her cohort-mates offline in the drawer of Red Alert’s table.   
But before she could have waken either of them, she felt unexpected weight suddenly falling on her right wing, bending the metal that was designed to help her stay airborne. She identified the attacker before he would have spoken up.  
“I’m sorry, Laserbeak. You and your family have all my sympathy, but I cannot let you wake up those two little monsters. This hopeless Decepticon riot is almost over. Devastator is down, half of the DJD is down, Menasor didn’t even make it out of the holding cells before he was stopped. If you wake these two, they will only go on a rampage and get themselves killed. I’m sorry” Steeljaw repeated as he jumped off Lasterbeak’s wing and pulled the flightframe away from the recharging twins. “If I set you three free, that would only lead to even more losses today.”  
She tweeted back sparkfelt glyphs about hatred and betrayal, but Steeljaw paid no attention.  
\----------------------------  
Soundwave was barely aware of what was going on around him, much less of the Cassetticons’ doing in Red Alert’s office. He tried to focus on the familiar insignia above him, on the mech Megatron had trusted to some degree. The music finally helped him gain energy, and he didn’t ask where it came from. It was needed, thus it was accepted. The sparkling’s future had priority over anything else. This was Megatron’s descendant. By some odd irony of fate, this youngster could not be born until the last hopes of the Decepticons’ freedom had perished. Perhaps he was meant to carry on the mission. If so, it was an honor to have contributed to the survival of the great Decepticon Cause.   
He felt something, ethereal, warm and dark, and welcomingly familiar. With that little strength he still possessed, he tried to reach for the shadow. However, the symbol of true loyalty and unconditional devotion did not stay with him – instead he turned around as if to guide him through something white-blue and just as familiar. Soundwave couldn’t resist the call of the vestigial connection he had unintentionally formed with the Matrix - the vessel in which Optimus carried Megatron’s spark energy since he could not bring the warlord to him in person. It still amazed him that any artefact could store a living mech’s energy like that, but then, it was said to hold the accumulated wisdom of all former leaders, so maybe this is how it was intended to work.   
Ravage guided Soundwave into the bright blue light. The communication officer reached out and embraced the Matrix, and the Matrix embraced him.


	16. Chapter fifteen

Megatron would have cried out loud, had he not been in Overlord’s tight grip. The death of the only mech he had ever trusted, ever loved, tore through his own spark. He could not give in to the loss, however. Overlord was actively bringing down the road to the Iaconian spaceport with him. At least the destruction provided some outlet of his pain and rage.  
Optimus Prime, however, was halfway out the topmost window of the medical facility, eyeing with the vertical walls and the warriors preparing for the fight well under him. Further in the distance he could make out Ratchet cutting something out of a Constructicon’s head and replacing a component of Hoist’s brain module with it. The sudden brightness, now almost burning from inside the Matrix, caught every mech’s attention, and Ironhide mouthed something like ‘Don’t you do it!’And when it was over, the pain suddenly vanished and the bright blue light went out.   
The Matrix settled back to its natural position next to his spark, no longer needed as a vessel between two mechs it normally wouldn’t have had anything to do with. It had been used enough. Soundwave was safe wherever he was now, with Ravage, peacefully waiting for his mate and leader to join him whenever he would happen to die. They would linger in timeless infinity until then.  
Laserbeak gave one last beep, and dropped her head on the table in grief. Buzzsaw looked at Tarn accusingly, then jumped off his dead master’s shoulder, beeping miserably. They were promised one entire orn with the sparkling -the Autobots had betrayed him that day.  
Regardless of his expectations, even Ratbat had felt Soundwave leaving. The tiny metallic bat was crawling in the crater of what had once been the femmebots’ secret storage room before Overlord took Megatron from there. His frame was still sore, and the trunks of his wings still hurt, not to mention his punch-marked ears. But still, he considered himself extremely lucky, as not many have survived getting caught by the DJD. Much less had anyone got Helex blown up from around them. To him, Soundwave’s death was relief, a proof that his vengeance had reached its purpose. What would happen next? He did not yet know, but this was his lucky orn – now, if only the sparklet went out too, he could get the mint-fresh frame that Soundwave had intended for his offspring. Beautiful.  
The next moment the giant pothole collapsed on him.  
\----------------------------------  
Tarn almost screamed when he saw Soundwave’s spark completely destabilizing, but he quickly gathered his focus. He had to lure back the dissolving spark’s energy, and redirect it to the new one. This little lightball had been formed of Megatron’s determination, Soundwave’s loyalty and Optimus Prime’s strength. It couldn’t go out as if it had never existed.  
The perfect blue orb lingered around for what felt like a moment frozen in time. It was faint, but grew stronger with every pulse, with every beat that fell in step with Tarn’s soft tone. The dark purple mech signaled for Tesarus to bring the scientist closer. He cast one superficial look at the new frame: it was about Soundwave’s size, silver and rich blue. Most of its weapons were still missing. There were no scratches on it, nor other telltale sign of any life experience. It was powerful, but shockingly new.  
His glaze wandered off to Brainstorm and to Buzzsaw. Now they would see who managed to outsmart the other.  
“Your turn” he told the Autobot. His voice betrayed no emotion.  
“Hey if you want me to use my hand, would you release it, you chopping machine?”  
\-------------------------------  
Until the transwarp platform would have powered up again, Prowl was trapped in the tunnel through which unwilling experiment subjects had sometimes been taken from the prison area to the offworld weapon manufacture. On the other end, Highbrow was waiting for him, but it seemed he would never make it to Kimia. As he struggled to get away from the ghost, his still-defunctional right foot got caught in a lose wire on the rusty ground, and he fell. The mech who could not exist reached out towards him.   
His logical processor felt numb and useless. The only thing he was certain about was that this ghost was nothing he could kill with any of the weapons here or on the other side of the galaxy. If he was anything, he could only define him as the opposite of logic. His energy field felt as if there were too many and too different, sometimes contradicting emotions running through him, all at the same time, as if in vain hopes to catch up with everything he couldn’t feel for millions of years.  
“I hope you know that your running away would only prove to the Autobots that anyone who had ever trusted you had been greatly mistaken.”  
Prowl didn’t answer. His mind screamed at him that the impossible, nonexistant, emotion-loaded ghost was telling him the truth. He had failed Prime. At this realization, the last ounce of his strength had left him. He couldn’t even bring himself to sit up on the corridor’s damp, rust-covered floor.  
“So kill me, then” he whispered. “It’s the only logical action for you to take.”   
“And maybe that’s exactly what I should do” the ghost nodded. “At the same time, this planet has seen far too many deaths in the recent million years” he added, then knelt down to help his defeated enemy up. Prowl gratefully accepted the hand he offered.  
\------------------------  
It was over. Soundwave was over, their mission was over. The new spark was beating with life, and Tarn could finally relax – or at least, that’s what he was faking. They all knew he was powering up that enormous cannon-on-cannon he was wearing, just in case their only hostage attempted anything foolish.  
Autobots tended to be foolish, Tarn knew that from experience.   
“They are all around us” Tesarus informed, steadying himself for battle. He evaluated Buzzsaw for a moment, then he blinked at Soundwave’s dark gray corpse. He remembered that the DJD had five mechs and a sparkeater in the morning. Now there were only the two of them, plus an unpredictable birdformer and a newframed sparkling with a weak spark and some expected coding issues and no installed weaponry whatsoever. One hostage with a legendary briefcase, half of the Autobot army on the other side of the door, and Megatron currently in Overlord’s hands on the far side of Iacon.   
The newborn spark connected itself to the silver and blue frame, and filled it with life. The spark casing gave a small hiss as it sank into the center of the chassis, and vital energon surrounded the now lively blue orb. The Autobot made the finishing touches on the spark-brain connection with great care to every small detail.  
Tarn stood up, offering his arm for Buzzsaw to perch on. Soundwave was the past. This mech here, was the future.  
Brainstorm clicked one last panel into place, and stepped back. He must have been planning something with his briefcase, like, to open it or use it as a weapon. Tesarus immediately grabbed him with his cranes out of precaution, and lifted him into the air in front of his belly-blades. He was careful, however, not to damage the scientist until they were certain about the sparkling’s functioning.  
The brand-new systems came online one after another. Sensors, datalogs loaded, different programs booted and one shoulder-panel transformed into a newest-version sonic gun. The memory panels connected to the processors, granting access to the knowledge the Autobots (and Buzzsaw) had provided him. The personality coding files, yet only a few lines each, opened and readied themselves for further shading. Although still unconsciously, he brought his blue and silver frame to a perfectly vertical, standing position. His shadow fell on the light blue Autobot. Buzzsaw tweeted something, Tarn bowed down in respect.   
Brainstorm couldn’t wait till the sparkling took control of his frame. He was still in the same room with three brutal Decepticons and the remains of his colleague whom one of the ‘Cons had killed. The same living shredder that killed Chromedome was in standby mode inches behind his back. Tarn was also eyeing with his transformation cog, in case there was something wrong with the youngling. It was getting to him.  
“Welcome on board, Top Secret” he spoke to the silver and dark blue young mechanism. “I hope you can guess who I am and what I wish from you.”  
Lines of code and programming were running, cross-referencing the input from the sensors with the database he would expand in his lifetime. There was a perfectly built frame for him to accomodate, strong and capable, and with many opportunities to explore. Top-notch brain module and huge memory capacity to be filled with life experience. As he accessed his databanks, he could identify these mechanisms around him, and he drew the conclusion about whose side they were on.   
He already shared a certain bond to Buzzsaw, a weak residue of the connection between the birdformer and his dead carrier. That was the first-ever safe point in his life, the origo to what he would relate to in the future.   
Deep red optics scrutinized the Autobot – despite their shade was the same as the late Soundwave’s optics had been behind the visor, the impression he left was more like that of Optimus Prime: wise and still lively. He didn’t yet have any of the bitter aura Megatron was known for.   
The sparkling nodded slightly, and his two arms transformed into two concussion blasters.  
“Not so unarmed as I have thought” Tarn admitted silently. He realized too late that those blasters had now been pointed at him and at Tesarus, and he found himself reluctant to open fire at Megatron’s newborn sparkling.   
“I understand what you expect from me” the young robot spoke up. His voice echoed in the same monotone fashion Soundwave’s had, but the edge of his tone resembled Megatron in a way. Buzzsaw gave an almost inaudible chirp, which earned a sonic gun trained at him.   
Then, faster than anyone in the room could have perceived, all three weapons were aimed at different points of Brainstorm’s body. “I understand” he repeated. “But in your dreams will I take orders from you, or from any Autobots. And you got my name wrong. I am Top Surprise.”  
“That you are, sir” Tarn regarded the newborn with a relieved sigh. “I am at your service.”  
“I’m aware.” Now, the self-assurance he radiated was undeniably Megatron’s heritage. He stared down at Brainstorm whom Tesarus was still holding in the air.   
A scanner ran through the Autobot’s entire frame. Brainstorm had the uncomfortable impression that his mind was being monitored too. The scanner’s ray moved on to the briefcase in his damaged hand. Eventually, Top Surprise signaled for Tesarus to put him back on the floor. The cross-faced mech obeyed, and he stepped on the Autobot’s heel-stabilizer to make sure he would stay there. The silver and blue youngling nodded, and turned away. His gaze fell on the dark grey corpse that used to be Soundwave.   
He reached out, resting a silver hand on the almost black, cold metal. He couldn’t see any recent scars, yet he was certain Soundwave went down fighting. Just like Chromedome, he had no idea how much a deep hacking could weaken a carrying spark. He didn’t know why his parent couldn’t fight back the attacker. That lifeless pair of optics, that unmasked mouth, the missing sturdy helm, the empty spark casing in the fully open cassette deck.... this was all that was left of Soundwave.  
“I wish I had known him” he muttered.  
“He was the most exemplary Decepticon to ever be” Tarn said quietly in the background. Top Surprise looked at the dark purple mech, then at Brainstorm still in Tesarus’s grip. His anger and bitterness, or their guilt were equally futile. Buzzsaw, who had been Soundwave’s sparkbound Cassetticon till the end, at least provided some sort of comfort. He was orphaned, but at least, not alone.  
Then Top Surprise turned towards the door just like how Soundwave had normally moved while picking up thoughts telepathically. If the sparkling had been reading the Autobots on the other side, he had plenty of source materials.  
He finally turned back to the hostage, and pointed at the briefcase that was still attached to the scraped wrist. The two concussion blasters transformed back into normal hands, but the sonic gun remained in position.  
“I will need that attention deflector” he calmly said. “And you will give it to me, since you don’t want my friend Tesarus to grind the rest of your briefcase.”   
Most reluctantly, Brainstorm obeyed.   
“I can’t believe you’re taking that away” he hissed. He was getting not only betrayed, but even blackmailed (and robbed!) by the sparkling he just helped to life. He deeply regretted constructing him to be wise and creative, not to mention the sleepless nights he spent improving the telepathy sensors. And he had no idea what was wrong with the loyalty coding he and Chromedome had several times double-checked.  
“Top Surprise, indeed” Tarn grinned at the sparkling. His proud smile was not seen behind the mask, but the young telepath didn’t need sight to perceive his emotions. Wordlessly he gave a warning: they were still in the upper prison area, full of enemies who had been thirsting for his carrier’s innermost energon before his birth. Soundwave’s death didn’t the least sate the Autobots: instead, now he could detect how many of them wanted him to be killed, too. The moment the Decepticons would kill Brainstorm, the entire room would be blown up. Two concussion blasters, a sonic gun, a double fusion cannon and a set of grinders wouldn’t have been enough ammunion against this mob. And this new thing called life was so calling, so inviting. Top Surprise wanted to live. Buzzsaw gave him freedom, Tarn gave him strength of his spark, Tesarus provided him the means to protect himself. After little hesitation, he added these two Decepticons to one of the most personal files: those whom he considered friends. Buzzsaw was even more than that.  
And what of the enemies? He could clearly detect Tarn’s wishes regarding each of them, especially those who had hindered the Decepticon Cause sometime in their lives, lived to see this day, and now wanted to kill him. There was only a thin door between some of those mechanisms, but one he had already met. He concentrated on the thoughts regarding Brainstorm, thoughts of those inside here, and those outside the small room. The sole reason the Autobots didn’t blow up the entire place was the scientist being still alive with them.  
Top Surprise wanted to live. And wanted Buzzsaw and his two friends to live, too.  
He held out his palm for the requested parts, then broke the opening controls off the briefcase before the inventor would have had other ideas. As a telepath, he was one step ahead his company, and he needed that advantage badly right now.  
“Release him, Tesarus. We can’t take a hostage with us, but he needs to stay alive.” He pointed at the wall between them and the Autobot forces on the corridor. Tesarus acknowledged the order with an irritated engine-roar. He didn’t come this long only to leave survivors.  
The sparkling ignored the angered growl and Buzzsaw’s disappointed trill. Getting all of them out from the cell appeared more important (and a lot more challenging) than executing a scientist with a half-cut wrist and a half-scrapped foot.  
::I won’t ask you to be grateful for your life:: he messaged the smaller blue mech. ::Just know that you don’t deserve it. You would have burnt my spark out if you had known in advance that the loyalty-compelling codelines won’t work.::  
He connected the attention deflector to his sonic cannon, and boosted its signal energy until Brainstorm stopped ranting about him. When he could no longer detect any thought regarding himself or those who were about to leave with him, he immediately told Tarn to blast the wall to the next room.   
This attention deflector was such a wonderful invention, Top Surprise noted with the awe only children are capable of. The Autobots have heard the explosion, but they didn’t consider it to be their problem. They kept preparing to thunder down the room in which only Brainstorm was now – with a few damaged limbs, but otherwise functional. Top Surprise’s smug expression was like that of Megatron on his best days. They crossed two more rooms and an abandoned corridor before anyone would have noticed.  
\------------------  
A blue tank attached to a black jet, and these two forming a rather psychotic robot, was a sight that had gained attention from all mechs in and around Iacon. The nigh-unstoppable mech’s current opponent happened to be Omega Supreme, who was larger and just as well armed – but less volatile, and more concerned about the fates of other Cybertronians getting into his firing range. Overlord had his rampage for the day, and maybe his satisfaction of a lifetime now that he had freed Megatron from a filthy Autobot prison and paraded through half the planet’s capital with him. Being defeated in one-on-one combat was a mere detail compared to the taste of this victory. Now he would get the old Guardian out of the way, and leave for some repair facility where he could personally reset his superior’s transformation systems. That Megatron will never live down.   
Omega was already down on energy, and with his size, it wasn’t very hard for a strategist / sadist to find vulnerable target areas on him. And he had to restrain his shooting any time his enemy had wounded civilians behind him – a detail Overlord normally wouldn’t have even considered. In just a nick of time, the destroyer left three large ruptures on the Guardian that would have been enough for him to bleed out if he didn’t get medical assistance immediately. It appeared to be a disappointingly easy victory. He transformed, keeping his tank part attached in case he would have to leave in a hurry. He took off, and aimed at Omega’s crotch area.  
Suddenly he tensed. As he was ascending in the air to get a better shooting position, something fell onto him and cut into one of his wings with a yellow energon-axe. He made a barrel roll, partly to shake off the unwanted hitch-hiker, and partly because flying straight with a dented wing wasn’t exactly his specialty. However, Optimus Prime refused to fall down for him.  
\-------------  
For a communication officer, Blaster appeared quite slow to react when it came to letting cassettes go. Even if they weren’t his Cassetticons but Soundwave’s, he had been responsible for them and despite their enmity, carrier programming forced him to take care of Rumble and Frenzy. But Steeljaw was right to remind him of the agreement about Soundwave’s extra orn - of which he didn’t get one single astrosec. The old blue carrier didn’t deserve any fairness nor justice apart from what had already happened to him, but it truly didn’t sit right with Blaster to steal Frenzy, Rumble and now Laserbeak while their carrier’s offspring was alive.   
::You have convinced me, Steeljaw. What’s your plan?::  
::I don’t need much plan:: the golden lion-cassette answered. ::I will leave the twins on the corridor to the central hall. They will come that way.::  
Blaster hesitated one more moment.  
::Do it, then.::  
The four-legged cassette dragged first Frenzy and then Rumble onto his own back, then poked Laserbeak who couldn’t fly with her damaged wing. Reluctantly and just because she couldn’t leave the Autobot with her cohort-mates, she jumped on the metallic lion’s back and stood silently as Steeljaw marched out of Red Alert’s office with the three of them.   
\---------------------  
From the distance, Overlord trying to buck Optimus off his back looked like nothing but fancy flight, even with his red and blue cargo waving like a flag, holding on to his intact wing for his dear life. Eventually, the phase-sixer was forced to land in robot mode, because no way could he handle a Guardian as long as he had a Prime lingering on his frame.   
“Optimus seriously appears to have a death wish” Prowl summed up the sight.   
“Don’t be fooled by the way a mech looks” Shockwave murmured, grabbing the gun that had belonged to Prowl until only a breem ago. “Though I admit, some details might give you clues.”   
With that, he aimed at the jet-and-tank psychopath. He fired one single shot.  
And, seeing the result, Prowl looked like he was about to fry his logical processor again.   
“Depth perception” the former politician explained with a rather smug grin, subspacing the Autobot’s gun.   
About a megamile in front of them, Overlord was standing, paralyzed. He received the shot directly to the joint between his two parts: he was unable to move his waist or anything below that, but neither could he detach and get away with his jet part. Even his built-in weapons were positioned in the tank, so he could use none of them. All he had was a mostly silver, incredibly overrated and considerably malfunctioning old gun.   
Without his firearms’ constant banging, without his ability to disconnect his two halves, he was just as vulnerable to the built-in killcode as he was intended to be. He knew what was going to happen, and he hated to be as incapable as he suddenly found himself.   
The Autobots around him still didn’t dare come closer, apart from the Prime who appeared to be suffering some type of energy management malfunction. Well, if somebot starts a fight with jumping on his enemy from the window of a medical ward, this may be something predictable.   
In fact, Optimus had more trouble leaving the hospital room than sneaking above the destroyer, once he was out. Elita was just too suspicious, she knew him too well. The Prime had the impression that maybe she didn’t buy the ‘I need to recharge’ excuse at all, rather she just let Optimus leave without sounding like she had agreed to it. Because she didn’t.  
And she was right not to. Overlord was strong and vicious, but Omega Supreme was an old friend whom Optimus just could not let down. The fight had been brutal, and exhausting. It would have been a rather short one, the Prime realized, if the destroyer’s lower half hadn’t been paralyzed. What happened to him, Optimus couldn’t fathom. But it clearly wasn’t an act, he could see desperation and panic on the psychotic mech’s face. Was he afraid to die? Optimus fought back a wave of sympathy. He found he was disturbingly experienced at shaking off such feelings.   
He felt his spark getting weaker. Also, he couldn’t keep fighting with one single axe against a mech whose one punch could scuttle a Guardian. The mech had grabbed Megatron by the barrel in both hands, and used him like a metallic club. The Prime’s left chest glass shattered, and he fell several metrics back. He hit the ground hard, but he was back on his feet one moment later. Megatron’s shot only blew up the ground where he had been one second ago. He caught a fragment of their communication. It was done on a coded Decepticon frequency so he couldn’t make out the glyphs, but by the tone he guessed that these two were blaming each other.  
Well, he wouldn’t give them a second chance. He had to take Megatron back. But as he steadied himself for another attack (this time, he intended to aim for the back of Overlord’s helm, since he couldn’t turn around) he felt an inner alarm creeping over him. His self-diagnostic was sending him a final warning before he would have a second whiteout. He knew he should have ceased their fight.  
But stopping Overlord was more important. Perhaps having Ratchet around gave him a false sense of invulnerability? He couldn’t tell. He took an invent and steadied himself for the last attack.  
Which never came. The loudspeakers of the nearby spaceport sent out a code, a quick and simple line, just enough for him to recognize what it was. Overlord offlined in the middle of a blow, and Megatron fell to the ground from the lifeless black hands.  
Optimus collapsed down in the dust next to the motionlessly standing murderer, finally subspacing his yellow energon axe in a rather haggard and exhausted movement. He had done his part in saving the day, he decided. Now he would only have to endure the righteous tirades from Ratchet, and whatever Elita-One had for him. One medic was already patching up Omega Supreme, and Ironhide was feeding fresh energon cubes to the old warrior. They also offered him one cube, but he declined it. He was in much greater need of a good recharge. He also wanted to find out what had paralyzed the phase-six category destroyer during the battle, but his logical processor told him it wasn’t his task to sort out. Maybe the answer would just reveal itself if he was finally willing to take a rest. He had a rather eventful day, so far. He would just sit here in the dust for a while.  
And then, coming from the direction of the main Autobot facilities, he spotted a mechanism he almost gave up the hope to ever see. He was talking to some Autobots (could Prowl be one of them?) but when he noticed Optimus watching him, he sped up and hurried towards him.   
The Prime didn’t know if he could trust his optics. But then, he remembered, Ratchet had spent day and night in Shockwave’s cell, and once he got his hands on a patient, that mech really had no other option but to heal. He was only hoping that the personality restoration went just as flawlessly as the other repairs apparently had.   
Shockwave was shining in a beautiful shade of octarine with some soft beige and rich purple highlights. His long-unseen face was somewhat still confused, but just as kind and encouraging as Optimus remembered, and his bright blue optics were shining with pride exactly like in his younger days.  
“Senator...?” he cautiously asked. “How do you feel? Do you remember?” He tried to convince his frame to stand up, as sitting in the dirt would not get him anywhere. After a cheerful greeting and seeing a few failed attempts, Shockwave sat down next to him. Their frames touched: proof that this was reality.  
“I think I remember a little too much” the newcomer nodded. “And not all makes sense to me right now.”  
“I can guess” Optimus Prime agreed. “For a while you’ve been quite the contrary of yourself.”  
Shockwave didn’t tell him, but at the moment he felt as if he’d been contradictory in his entire life. Some of his emotion-driven deeds made perfect sense in retrospect, and some choices he thought to have been driven by logic now appeared to be cheap self-justifications. For example, until now he didn’t consider two optics to perceive more than just one. And he conducted millions of experiments with one hand only. What have they turned him into? What had he been until now?  
“At least we had a bench to sit on, back then” he finally managed, settling comfortably in the dust next to the Prime. Now they only had a ruined city road’s surface to sit on, and they couldn’t even tell when exactly it was bombed during the long war, and whether had it been renovated before Overlord came across. “Do you remember that bench?” he asked with a sudden blow of nostalgy. “In the Ark-1 memorial park, by the inscription?”  
Optimus nodded. “I wonder what memorials our generation is going to erect. Apart from, like, this lifesize Overlord in front of us” he murmured.  
With its lifesize Megatron at his feet, Shockwave noticed. He went to snatch the silently seething gun from the ground before anyone else would have.   
“I will have a talk with him later in private” he said. “Leaving the two of you together was perhaps the worst idea I ever came up with, and that includes the Regenesis project.”  
Optimus Prime only hummed, taking in the sight, the colors and the free-flowing emotions of his long lost friend. His face turned darker as he remembered a promise he made to Soundwave and his flightframe spy in exchange for the destroyed personality coding. Without Buzzsaw and his carrier, Shockwave would have remained an empty shadow of who he was.  
“I couldn’t keep my word” he whispered. “I promised one entire orn that the cohort would have spent with the sparkling.” But before he could have dwelled more into that, Fortress Maximus contacted him on a heavily coded Autobot frequency.  
::I have a trouble to urgently report, sir::  
::What is it, Max?::  
::The Terrorcons. Or more like, the lack of them. They got out from their cells in the first wave, but they weren’t even spotted anywhere. I can tell you for sure that they did not merge into Abominus. And apparently, the guard on duty in their wing also disappeared.::  
::Who?:: Optimus asked. ::Who was the guard on duty?::  
::Kick-Off. And I’m rather worried about him:: Fortress Maximus replied. ::He is the kind of mech who would come after me, were the situation reversed.::  
The Prime immediately contacted Jazz and told him to send anyone he could after the escapees. Then he relayed the situation to Shockwave – it came very easily for him to trust his old mentor again.   
“Do you know where they went?” he asked.  
“No, but since it’s the Terrorcons, they must be looking for their favorite ninja consultant” the former scientist / politician hinted.   
Before he could have said more, an elegant purple ship rose from behind the city ruins, and darted towards the sky: the Peaceful Tyranny. Both Optimus and Megatron felt a strange yet familiar feeling as the deadly vessel flew over them. The ship made a small circle as if in a promise to return soon, which neither of them would doubt.   
But that interlude lasted only for a moment, before the enhanced attention deflector convinced both of them to mind their own business.


	17. Extra chapter

The ninja consultant flew past the planetary defenses without triggering an alarm, then transformed to his robot mode and landed not far from the still standing Overlord. He ran a few scans in the midnight darkness, curiously examining the shut-down reaction’s result. Last time it was used on a phase-sixer, he didn’t quite get a chance to see the details.  
Much to his disgust, he noticed several samples of oil intentionally leaked on the offline tank’s legs. He properly understood that Overlord had made as many enemies as he could in his long life, but this inferior organic behavior shouldn’t have been so popular among Cybertronians.  
Looking higher, he spotted something interesting at Overlord’s waist level. The destroyer’s rigid fingers were in a position as if he had been holding some kind of artillery. He dropped to his wolf mode and sniffed the empty hand.  
Well, interesting. Last time he heard about Megatron, he was said to have been executed. Apparently, he didn’t stay dead for long. With his curiosity partially sated, the ninja consultant transformed to his car mode, and rolled on, to the coordinates Shockwave sent him. In spite of whatever the Autobots had done to him, he still considered the politician to be one of the most sane individuals among the Decepticons.  
\-------------------  
His first-ever transformation. The first midgrade he consumed. His first sentences he put together in the Primal Vernacular. (If only Vos had heard him!) His first glyphs he carved into metal. The first lullaby they sang together. Tarn couldn’t have imagined greater honor than becoming the caretaker of Megatron and Soundwave’s child: the future leader of the remaining Decepticons.  
There was, however, one thing that made him tie his processors into knots: Top Surprise promptly refused to ever kill any Cybertronian. As he had pointed out, he was two-third Decepticon and one-third an Autobot’s offspring, so taking the life of anyone from either faction appealed like betraying his own mechs. Buzzsaw denied any responsibility in that aspect of Top Surprise’s coding, although he was damn proud of the rest. Laserbeak often pointed out that her elder turned shockingly irritating since Soundwave’s death, which Frenzy was quick to second. Rumble noted that both Megatron and Optimus had too appeared hopelessly idealistic in their early days, so there was nothing to worry about, he would mature. Tesarus hoped that wouldn’t take vorns.  
\------------------  
Prowl stared out of his office and sighed. He was given another chance, but definitely not an easy way out. De-ranking was a punishment he could live with, but Red Alert watching him turned out to be lot more irritating than he had originally presumed. And according to the Prime, he had to “learn to respect others’ opinion” whatever it meant. He was determined not to let Optimus down again, so he grit his denta and turned back to the charts.  
He still couldn’t convince himself that Shockwave’s newest idea / project / planetary nightmare wasn’t going to result in chaos in a matter of joors. After taking 514 variables into consideration, he only gave 49,75% chance that this was actually a viable plan. He couldn’t guess how Shockwave gave it 51,03% after processing the exactly same information. (And according to the politician, that value included his self-criticism which Prowl did not count with at all.) Maybe he should have just accepted exile.  
\-------------------  
“Finally, you’re mine” Elita-One breathed. “Mine, and mine alone.”  
“I’m not sure you wouldn’t deserve something better” Optimus Prime held her close “but this irresponsible workaholic is what you’ve got.”  
She smirked. She didn’t want anything other than the aforementioned workaholic finally staying in the berth for longer than half of a recharge period.  
“You know, I am glad you went and protected Omega” she admitted. “In retrospect. Because I know there’s a happy ending to this. But it wasn’t quite fun to live it through.”  
“And you were worried about me with good reason” the Prime admitted. “I think we can relax now. Shockwave will ping me as soon as he gets word of the offspring, and there’s nothing else that would worry me right now.”  
Elita gave a sad smile at the mention of the sparklet whom they didn’t even get to meet. Besides, she was somewhat unimpressed at how much her sparkmate trusted a politician with finding him.  
“Well, it’s not Shockwave whom I trust” Optimus explained her after some musing. “It is Ratchet’s healing abilities. Would you doubt him?”  
Elita remembered the medic and his rant when he was given his next assignment in the afternoon just after Shockwave finally had time to express his gratitude for all his efforts. The docbot calling Shockwave a thankless scrap-pile and an obsessed old idiot were the least colorful phrases of his reply.  
“I see your point, Orion” the pink femme finally nodded. “Everything will be all right.”  
\---------------------  
“Just keep in mind that you’re chiseling a piece of titanium that will be rotating constantly after you place it into the metallocranium” Ratchet said, now sitting calmly on the bench while watching his newest trainee mold a brain module cover panel for Hook. “It is the part of the brain module that separates the processing electronics from the executing modules. It should not influence mental functions, but if there is any deformity, it would damage the sensitive wire network around it. It could disrupt the fuel managing systems, the communication center, the lines to the personality coding, the direct-wired hydraulics’ chip, or the balance sensors. All five are essential while combining. Calm down, gather your focus. If you do your work in a hurry, you will never know why Devastator would keep falling apart.”  
Brilliant red glaze fell on the medic.  
“Then why don’t YOU do it?” he slapped.  
“Because a healer has to want his patient repaired” Ratchet explained. “You want Hook back more that I do, so either you do the repairs, or nobot.” He got another harrumph in reply. “You know” the medic continued “healing work can be done with the medic seething meanwhile, but for that you have to learn how to control your rage first. And that is why you’re here, isn’t it?”  
Ratchet’s silver-shining new student gave him a long look, yet again diverting his attention from the brain module cover panel he was supposed to work on. Apparently, conquering the universe was easier than getting a degree in cyberomedicine would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it, thank you for reading! Reviews are highly welcome :)


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